Ultimate Shazam
by Writrzblok
Summary: Brand new chapter added! A reimagining of the Shazam mythos. Billy Batson, by reciting a certain hieroglyph, releases the power of a mighty wizard. He also unleashes an ancient villain with awesome power.
1. Chapter 1

Ultimate Shazam!

The names and characters used in this story are property of DC comics.

In the sands of what was once Khandaq, Egypt, many mysteries had been hidden and many shall remain that way. However, with help of local engineers and ancient texts, the Batsons were able to find the lost city's great temple. Crews with pick-axes and shovels went to work removing the sand that time had used to conceal the structure. C.C. Batson and his wife Marilyn stood by holding each other close.

Marilyn Batson's beautiful face shined golden in the Egyptian sun. It was as if she were a mortal descendant of fair and mighty Isis herself. Her shoulder length brown hair sat well atop her frame. Green eyes full of life taunted anyone foolish enough to believe she made the wrong decision in marrying C.C. Batson.

Clarence Charles Batson, preferably known as C.C., was tall, yet not imposing. At over six feet, he never forgot to be humble despite towering over most people. Despite serene sky-blue eyes, they held a deep passion for his wife and their teenage son, Billy. His hair was black, darker than the nights could become in Khandaq.

The Batsons were widely known in Fawcett City as the top archaeologists in the state. They taught at Fawcett University during the school year, however, while on summer vacation, they enjoyed nothing more than exploring history's mysteries. The present day, unearthing the ancient temple of Khandaq, was no exception. Hired by Fawcett Museum curator Dr. Thaddeus Sivana, the Batsons were charged with overseeing an excavation and to bring back anything of value.

Marilyn's eyes lit up when she said, "Oh, Clarence. This is so exciting. The legends about the temple of Khandaq date all the way back to the first Rameses. This is such an extraordinary find, like we were fated to rediscover it."

"Honey," C.C. said, kissing his wife's head, "I don't believe in fate. I believe in what should happen, and what does happen. This temple was never supposed to be found, but we found it all the same. Fate is just abbreviation for 'hind sight's twenty-twenty.'"

"Well, I believe it was Fate that brought you into my life, Dr. C.C. Batson," she said, pressing her lips to his.

Returning the kiss in kind, he smiled and said, "Like I said, Dr. Marilyn Batson, I believe in what should happen and what does happen. Fortunately, in my opinion, my meeting you was an instance of both; and that just doesn't occur very often."

They sighed in contentment, seeing the excavation crews clearing out the sand in front of a twenty foot-tall opening. Carefully, they stepped into the clearing with rags covering their faces. Each time they stepped into a catacomb on a dig they always approached with apprehension and excited glee. Marilyn and C.C. stepped down into the sand pit and grabbed the equipment standing by.

Sand particles gathered, giving time ample centuries to leave decay and rot behind. Without the proper protection, one could understandably fall ill to innumerous airborne diseases due to decomposed bodies in ancient tombs. The crew foreman handed C.C. a pair of surgical gloves. C.C. handed Marilyn a pair of gloves for her. "You ready to go in, Doctor?" she remarked after putting on her mask.

Applying thick leather gloves to both hands and shouldering a flashlight, C.C. replied, "Ladies first."

* * *

_Six months later…_

A young man of sixteen skated down the sidewalk. He swerved by pedestrians with graceful speed, causing many folks to shout and hurl obscenities. On his skateboard, Billy Batson wasn't as accomplished a skater as Tony Hawk, but he wasn't as clumsy as Goofy either. The wind whipped through his neck-length black hair and made his sky-blue eyes squint slightly. His long brown flight jacket curved like a cape behind him as he turned the corner toward a busy intersection.

Billy kept his eyes peeled. He had to make it home in time to get ready for tonight. Fortunately, he spotted a truck that was making a turn onto a street that led straight to his house. Propelling himself forward, he knelt down and grabbed the trailer hitch with his left hand. With his right hand, Billy adjusted his backpack.

After the truck sped fifteen miles closer to Billy's destination, he released the trailer hitch. Kicking his foot, he propelled his board faster through a tree-shaded street. Leaves kicked up along the asphalt in his wake. Realizing it wasn't too much further to the house, he pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. After pressing a couple of buttons, he waited, weaving between the sparingly few passing cars. "Freddie?" he said, kicking his board onto the sidewalk, "It's Billy, you home yet? Cool, what…What? Sally Dargento asked you to meet her at Gordon's grill house tonight? Sweet! Yeah, that's right she does have a twin. I think her name's Leslie. Hold on."

Swerving past a jogger, Billy continued, "Ok, I'm good. No, bro, I can't make it. I have to go with my folks to their opening of that Khandaq exhibit at Fawcett Museum. I know, digging up old ruins and coffins and stuff sounds boring to me, too. That big golden corpse-closet they brought back really spooks me. You'd think the guy would want to still be back in Egypt under mountains of sand and not be gawked at by a bunch of rich numb-nuts who don't know who they are in the first place and couldn't pronounce their messed up names if they did. Look, I'm almost at my house. I gotta put on the Sunday suit. I don't care if we haven't gone to church in years; I still call it my Sunday suit. Freeman, you'd better hope your jock's secure tomorrow." Snapping shut his cell phone shut, Billy slipped it back into his jeans pocket.

Billy kicked up his skateboard and ran up his driveway to a two-story red brick house. A white garage door laid shut like the white-painted wooden front door. The grass and hedges of the front yard were trimmed perfectly. Billy was in charge with keeping up the house while C.C. and Marilyn, his mother and father, were away on excavations. He never had any crazy parties while they were away, mainly due to the fact that he wasn't the most popular kid in Fawcett High School.

As the young man came through the front door, C.C. Batson stood with Marilyn in afternoon casual dress. They normally didn't do that unless they had company. The guest revealed himself, walking in from the living room. "Billy, this is Dr. Thaddeus Sivana, the curator at Fawcett Museum of Art and History."

Doctor Sivana held out a frail, skinny hand which resembled the rest of his body. It wasn't that the curator was really old, more than he didn't engage in regular exercise. "Billy, nice to meet you, son," the man said in a voice that struck the young man as ominous, not unlike a snake luring its prey with a glare. Billy was slightly taller, being able to see over the doctor's strange cranium.

Billy tried not to stare at the man's almost abnormally large head. It reminded Billy of last Thanksgiving's dinner when his dad accidentally dumped the salad bowl over Uncle Dudley's head. The young man couldn't help but stifle a chuckle as he said, "Nice to meet you, too, Dr. Sivana."

"You're laughing about the shape of my head aren't you?" Sivana said, his eyes squinting.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr…" Billy tried to apologize.

The curator held up his hand and said, "No need, I've heard it before and I'll hear it again." The curator and Billy shook hands vigorously and nodded in acknowledgement.

C.C. stepped in between them, placed his right hand on Billy's shoulder as he said, "We're trying to bring him into the family business."

Sivana nodded with a smile, "I see. It's a shame I'll never know the pleasure."

Billy lowered his head, then developed half a smile and said, "Well, neither will my parents, Dr. Sivana. They already drove Mary to Gotham University."

Marilyn interjected, putting a hand on Sivana's shoulder and saying, "Mary went there to study education, and she's been talking about doing an internship over at Fawcett High. Also, need I remind you young man, you aced the archaeological texts we faxed you from the last dig."

"Except for that one hieroglyph I never found the translation to; that guy inside the lightning bolt, remember dad? Instead of listening to Nickelback on my Ipod, I get to translate ancient Egyptian texts for my parents," Billy muttered with a gritted smile, "I'm the envy of every kid in Fawcett City."

C.C. looked at the handsome young man and smiled, putting his arm around him. "Well, son, we're all ready for the exhibit tonight. Treasures of Khandaq, on display for future generations to marvel at, what a show it'll be," he said, with a beaming smile.

Sivana nodded, gently removing Marilyn's hand from his shoulder. "It won't be much of a gala if I cannot write a good speech, Dr. Batson. I'm afraid public speaking is a PhD I had not acquired at Yale. I must be off to the museum to finalize the preparations and my speech. Billy, again, nice to meet you, uh, will you be at the exhibit tonight?"

Billy grimaced as C.C. spoke up in response for him, "Yes, sir. He will be with us on stage as you present the Khandaq exhibit wing."

As Sivana took his leave, shutting the door behind him, Billy groaned at his mom and dad. Billy said, "Dad, what the hell was that all about?"

Billy's father sighed out loud, "Billy, why do you have to make it difficult for me and your mother to seem respectable?"

Walking into the kitchen with his parents in tow, Billy set his backpack down on the brown wooden counter top. Sunlight made the room almost blindingly bright with the white wallpaper covered in sunflowers. Billy pulled a cup from the cupboard and said, "It's not my fault the Museum's going bankrupt, dad. There just aren't that many mysteries left in the world anymore, I suppose."

Marilyn sat down at the elegant wooden dining room table and said, "How can you say that? There's plenty of mystery left in the world, Billy. Like 'who built Stonehenge', for instance."

"C'mon, Mom," the son replied, "_Stone_henge? You think the poor schmuck who came up with that wasn't high?"

C.C. sat down across from Marilyn and said, "Billy, I just don't see why you hate archaeology so much."

"I don't hate it, dad. But it's not the kind of thing kids my age are into," Billy replied, pouring a glass of soda from a can out of the refrigerator. Putting the can in the garbage and taking a gulp of the sweet beverage, he said, "Digging in the sand for the lost bathroom of King Wannabeleftalone. I mean, how would you like it if someone was digging Grandpa Batson up and taking his stuff?"

"My dad, though wealthy, didn't bury himself inside his mansion and then had said mansion buried with him, son," C.C. interjected, "also for your information, ancient Khandaq didn't have plumbing."

"Modern Khandaq barely has any," Marilyn interrupted, looking at her silver Timex wristwatch. Throwing a look at Billy, "Son, please come with us to the opening. It'd mean the world to me and your father."

Billy recognized the look his mother threw at him immediately, "Aw, mom, don't give me the puppy dog eye---Dad, please stop her, she's giving me the lost puppy look!"

C.C. shook his head and stood from the dining room table. "Billy, you know how that look is, once it starts you just cannot say no to it. I should know; five minutes after she gave me that look on our one year anniversary, we were engaged."

"Amazing it took you that long, Dad. Lasting five minutes against 'the look', you should interrogate prisoners at Gitmo," Billy said, before nodding his head and trying to shield his eyes, "Okay mom, okay! I'll go! Please, just put your real face back on!"

Mom smiled brightly as her and C.C's handsome young man slouched to his room, dragging his backpack. Holding her hand up like a gun and blowing on her index finger she said, "Still got it."

* * *

A mainstay of the town since its creation in 1917, Fawcett City Museum stood as a chapel to the wandering eyes of the curious. A gigantic Green and Red refuge, it was owned throughout its history by the Sivana family. Around it was a large parking lot holding expensive cars for the local news media as well as the elite of the archaeological society. 

The main lobby of the museum held a capacity crowd of almost one hundred people. Reporters from as far as Metropolis and Gotham attended, as well as well noted archaeology experts from around the world.

A lone glass podium stood in front of a two hundred capacity populace. Written in enlarged golden cursive, "Fawcett Museum" was imprinted into the podium front. Behind the podium, a row of five chairs waited for their occupants with stoic patience. Adrian Mueller, the museum's curator took the first chair. Dr. Sivana placed himself on the second The Batsons, C.C., Marilyn, and Billy walked up and took seats at the last three chairs. The father and son sported matching black suits and ties while Marilyn beamed in a red sequin dress that stopped at her shins.

Dr. Sivana adjusted his olive green tie and jacket and pulled up his similarly colored pants. He looked out to the crowd before him, dreading the speech. He always hated speaking in front of large groups, even giving his valedictorian speech in high school. It was the perfect opportunity for him to lavish his mental superiority on the fools who picked on him and teased him. However, once he had gotten toward the microphone, Sivana vomited as he began his speech. The humiliation was unbearable. Hundreds of people laughing at him while his maid's eggs benedict from that morning rest on the podium, microphone and, most embarrassingly, his graduation robe. Even his parents took part in the hilarity.

As Dr. Sivana stepped up to the podium to speak, he kept that scandalous moment fresh in his mind. However, instead of the student body and his parents, his colleagues and the local media turned out to visit C.C. and Marilyn's findings from the sands of Khandaq. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Sivana said, clearing his throat before he continued, "It is with great pleasure and humble gratitude that you are all present to witness this milestone in our fine Museum's history. Tonight we will present to you, the treasures and mysteries of Ancient Khandaq, as well as the sarcophagus of its king, Adamtutamen-Teth. "

"According to ancient legend, Adamtutamen-Teth's mighty rule was brutal. The executions which, for the most part were perpetrated by Teth himself, were barbaric. Once it was said that Teth, in anger over sitting in judgment over a thief, snapped the thief's neck, after crushing both his hands. He then summoned the shopkeeper who the thief stole from. Saying that the shopkeeper should've watched his valuables more carefully, Teth then pulled out the man's eyes. As the shopkeeper knelt, screaming and bleeding, the monstrous ruler forced the man to ingest his own damaged orbs."

Upon seeing the disgusted reaction of the crowd, Sivana quickly said, "But enough about the Khandaq justice system, let me bring your attention to our newest and finest exhibit in Fawcett City Museum." With a thin pale finger, he pointed to a hallway to the left of the crowd. Velvet rope barriers and two large security guards blocked the red carpet which led to a pair of large gold-painted metal doors.

"That," Sivana continued in his speech, "Is the remains of the famed city of Khandaq. Restored to near perfection by our excellent restoration crew and overseen by the very archaeologists that without their discovery, no doubt you'd be having more interesting issues to cover, Doctors Clarence Charles Batson and Marilyn Batson. Please give them the honor of one obligatory round of applause, would you?"

The adult couple stood up in front of the crowd. Billy, however, kept his earphones on, concealing his Ipod in his jacket pocket. Marilyn looked over to her son and aggressively nudged him to stand up. "The strapping young man with them is Billy, their son. They hope one day he will join the family business," Sivana said with a glaring eye at the teen. It was his payback for laughing at his head earlier. Billy held up a shaky hand and smiled uncomfortably.

"We at Fawcett Museum owe a debt of gratitude to the fine doctors for this exquisite exhibit that you, the viewing public, will now enjoy. Gentlemen, if you will, please remove the curtain. Ladies and Gentlemen, established guests, I give to you now, the mysteries and histories of Ancient Khandaq!"

The crowd looked past the frail museum owner and gasped as the doors opened. A line formed immediately as archaeologists and reporters alike flocked toward the red carpet. Flash bulbs and mutterings filled the small mob pouring like molasses through a funnel into the exhibit. C.C. and Marilyn enter the exhibit through a side door with a still blushing Billy following behind.

As he entered the exhibition room, Billy the felt like he was entering the temple of Tutankhamen. The fifty-foot high ceiling was draped with golden banners reading "Welcome to Khandaq!" in black letters with quaint hieroglyphics painted above and below the letters. Each trinket, piece of jewelry, weapon or finely crafted replica had its own share of the hundred yard perimeter of the room. In the middle of the exhibition room towered a massive golden pyramid with an open entrance. Billy didn't doubt that it lead to a replica of the burial ground of Adamtutamen-Teth. His parents told him that Teth's own personal golden sarcophagus was inside behind a glass casing.

He hoped that Dr. Sivana knew that those hieroglyphics on the banners didn't really spell anything. That miserable, skeletal, salad-bowl-for-a-head-looking son of a bitch, he made him look like an idiot in front of those people. He knew it was for laughing at Sivana's head. Billy grunted and threw a sneer at Sivana while he and his parents made their entrance into the room.

The museum owner made his way toward the Batsons with his frail, thin hand extended. "Thank you, once again, C.C. for making this all possible," he said with a smile.

"You're welcome, Dr. Sivana," C.C. replied, shaking the offered hand firmly, "So, when can we expect our payment to come in for the job?"

"You will have it by the end of the week, my friend, it is a guarantee."

"It looks like the money will definitely be flowing from this exhibit," Marilyn said, staring at the large crowd spread across the gigantic room.

"If it were only the case, Marilyn," Thaddeus's voice became solemn as he looked at the crowd. He put his hands together and folded them over and over like a 1950's villain with a fetish for bondage and trains. "There was once a day when children as well as adults would come to these exhibits all the time. They'd learn marvelous things about the past. The history of the human race would always be at their fingertips. However, it can only be learned when it is called upon to be learned.

"These days, no one has the time to spend to take their family to places like the museum or the park or even the movies. It's always work, work, work; giving our lives and souls to the workforce so we can pay for the food on our table, the roof on our heads and the five thousand channels of nothing on our retard-o-tron called a television.

"Yes, there was a day, once, when people would marvel at ancient history. Now it's all Ipods and internet and who gives a damn about the social structure of feudal Japan, let's find out what Paris Hilton's doing or better yet, who."

Billy smirked, trying to stifle a chuckle. It immediately caught glares from all three adults. "What?" he said through a chortle, "It was a nice rant, doc. But saying that people don't care about the past doesn't stop them from not caring. C'mon, Dr. Sivana, what possible difference would learning about these things make to overall society?"

"Which society are you referring to, young man? Do you mean the one where culture, sophistication and responsibility move human progress forward; or the one where everyone sips Starbucks, chatting on their cell phones about meaningless political drivel instead of actually invoking change?"

Billy, his temper starting to flare, walked up to Dr. Sivana, their eyes meeting despite him being slightly taller. "I'm talking about the society that didn't wipe itself out believing in superstitious bullshit like gods in the air or gods in the underworld. A society where the only magic that exists is manufactured by guys who either think they're artists or guys who wear flashy suits that tend to attract hungry tigers. If these societies were so damned perfect, why are we looking at what they used to be instead of what they are now?"

C.C. pulled Billy away hard and said, "William Benjamin Batson! What's the matter with you!? You can't just talk like that to a guy who's helping us pay your allowance! You especially can't talk like that to a grown adult; I will not have it!"

With an angry glare, Billy said, "Dad, I begged you not to bring me here, I hate these things. As much as I love archaeology, all I want to do is hang with my friends and have a normal, healthy childhood!"

"What's not normal and healthy of wanting your child to grow up in the family business?"

"It isn't healthy if he thinks archaeology is a waste of time, that he'd rather shine chrome-dome's head with turtle wax and see if it casts a reflection than stand here looking at all these money-filled, collagen pumped, media whores gaze into a past they never knew nor cared about to begin with!"

"Alright, Billy; If you want to go home, I'll let you," C.C. dug into his pocket and put a fifty dollar bill in his son's hand. "Grab a taxi and let us know when you make it home." As Billy went to storm off, C.C. grabbed his arm and said, "Son, I love you."

"I love you, too, dad." Billy said, lowering his eyes. They knew the other meant it. No matter how angry they would get at each other over the study of the past, they never forgot the bond a father and son share.

* * *

After giving the Taxi driver the fifty dollar bill, Billy slouched over toward the front door to his house. He pulled out the spare key from underneath a wooden panel next to the doormat and let himself in. 

He pulled off his tie and slung it on the floor. Walking into the kitchen, he passed the answering machine. A red light on the device told Billy that a message was recorded. Pressing a button, the machine said, _Hey, Mom, hey dad. It's me, your favorite only daughter Mary. I wanted to let you all know that my internship at Fawcett high will start a little earlier than I thought. Next week in fact! I'll be home in a few hours and we'll discuss how to get Billy into the garage. If you're hearing this, just kidding', Bill. _

_Anyway, I'm packing my things while throwing a going away party at my dorm room. I promise, no drinking. _Billy heard silence followed by a muffled gasp of refreshment. _Anyway, I need to go, because my flight is leaving in an hour and a half, I am really wicked late to get out of here. Love you all, even you, wittle Biwwy. Bye._

"Great," Billy grumbled, tossing off his black suit jacket onto the living room chair. In one night, he'd almost got into it with the Fawcett Museum owner and his father. After riding all the way home in a smelly, torn up taxi, he learned that the bane of his existence, Mary Batson, would be home in a few hours to start interning as a teacher at HIS high school. He made his way upstairs and turned right, toward his bedroom, which was across from the upstairs bathroom.

Upon entering his room, Billy smiled, seeing his posters of Nickelback, Linkin Park, Eminem and Evanescence. On the wall above his bed hung a digitally altered picture of Jessica Alba where it looked like she was topless with her arms raised. Billy was a whiz at making those kinds of pictures. He remembered giving Freddie an altered picture of the Madonna-Britney Spears kiss at the Video Music Awards. He made it so they were both topless, but as a joke, he made Madonna's breasts sag like the old tub hag in "The Shining."

Tossing his dress shirt onto his bed, Billy sat back on his chair and rolled it toward his computer. His physique was not impressive by any standards but he thought himself pretty athletic. No one at school picked on him; however he didn't feel like he was part of any clique. He turned on his computer and waited for the minute it'd take to boot up. Clicking his mouse, he leaned back and started looking at different hieroglyphic websites.

It would be nice to tell his dad he finally translated the last hieroglyph. He felt his father would be happy that he made the breakthrough and hopefully put the fight at the museum behind them. It started out reading, "By this crest, Teth's fate is sealed, his deepest secrets never revealed; to sleep forever, him I damn, So says the wizard," and the rhyme stops. Billy searched for names that rhymed with 'damn' but so far he came up with none that fit the Egyptian hieroglyphic system.

He checked references to lightning and all he could come up with for the previous weeks, but with no luck. Billy figured giving it another try wouldn't hurt.

After hours of cross-checking, Billy seemed to hit the same wall as before. No name under the known Egyptian hieroglyphic system rhymed with damn and matched the lightning symbol. "Dammit!" he slammed his keyboard in frustration, causing it to link into a site featuring universally used symbols on ancient text and landmarks. Billy smiled wide. Why didn't he think of this before? Many cultures adopted symbols from others on rare occasions, but it did happen, to Billy's knowledge.

The symbol on the sarcophagus matched a similar symbol in ancient Greek texts, as well as ancient Hebrew and Canaanite scrolls. Under those symbols they all were translated "Shazam." Billy gave a satisfactory grunt and returned to the original hieroglyph file he read and said, "By this crest, Teth's fate is sealed. His deepest secrets never revealed; to sleep forever, him I damn, so says the wizard Shazam!"

Billy smiled and nodded his head in self-approval. All of a sudden, he heard a loud crashing noise, like thunder from outside. He rose from his chair and took a look from his window. He didn't see any clouds in the sky, but sure enough he heard the thunder once more. Perhaps he was losing his mind but he kept looking. Billy then spotted a glowing light in the sky, among the other stars. It seemed almost like he could open his window and touch it.

The light had touched first, shattering the window and throwing him backwards onto the floor, screaming in agony. Billy writhed on the floor as he felt energy and electricity surge through his body. He fought against his protesting muscles to push himself up but his screams revealed his futility. As he began to fade, he could've sworn a man was standing over him, wearing a white robe and sporting along gray beard. That very moment, he lost himself in darkness, surrounded by the glass from the broken window.

Spots appeared before Billy's eyes as he opened them. His hands felt heavy as he tried lifting himself off of the floor. His body still felt like trembling gelatin after an earthquake. Shaking visibly, Billy crawled and fought to his knees by pulling on his bed. "What the hell was that?!" he shouted. Looking at the clock near at his bed, Billy realized he'd be unconscious for an hour. He heard the front door shut downstairs. His parents were home from the museum exhibit unveiling.

Billy had no idea how he would explain the entire window being shattered. As he turned his head over toward the window, Billy expected to see slivers littering the floor. When his eyes fell upon the floor, no glass was to be found. Not one chard lay on the carpet. Billy stumbled to the window and put his palm against the pane. With widened eyes, he inspected the glass, finding no scratches, jagged edges, or anything else wrong.

He clutched at his head and fell back onto his computer chair. Was he going crazy? Did the last hour even happen? What was going on with him?

* * *

Thaddeus Sivana locked the door on his office in the basement of Fawcett city Museum. The gala was not the rousing success he had hoped it would be. However, it provided the needed money to keep the bank from foreclosing. He had finished three glasses of Jack before locking up. His tipsiness started to show with every step. 

The museum was in financial sudden death overtime. Each new exhibit, though it cost nearly all he had, would keep him from losing the only good thing his family had ever given him. His parents were never very kind, at least to Thaddeus. They would be gone on expeditions, leaving him to be raised by nannies and tutors. It was sheer obligation they showed up to that fateful graduation ceremony where Cecilia's eggs benedict found their way back to freedom, landing on the white and gold graduation gown.

That was the second time tonight he had thought about that damned graduation day. It made him grumble as he stumbled through the Khandaq exhibit. Though only slightly drunk, a loud crashing sound startled him. "Who's there?" he shouted, pulling out a derringer from his jacket pocket. He'd kept it hidden in his desk drawer during the gala earlier that evening. "Show yourself!"

A low, grunting noise emanated from the fake pyramid in the center of the exhibit. As Dr. Sivana closed in toward the sound, gun drawn, his throat dried up. His hand began to shake as he turned the corner to the entrance of the pyramid. "I demand you show yourself or I will call the police!" No sound came in response other than the groaning of whatever pitiful creature lay inside the fake structure.

Leaning forward into the darkness with a concerned look on his face, he said, "Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor? I'm somewhat one." The room went quiet, which to the museum curator could mean whatever creature that was in such agony had expired. "I'll go alert the authorities!" he said, putting away his gun.

Turning away to run, he felt hands gripping his shoulders tightly. Startled at first, he turned quickly to find a six-foot six skeleton clutching at him. Meat and muscle clung vigilantly to the bones while organs pumped dust inside the body. Its eyes were gone and every inch of its bandaged, yet half-nude form was crinkling from decomposition.

Shrieking like a startled girl, Sivana struggled to free himself. Despite the decay, the creature proved far stronger than the curator. The monster's right hand lifted him into the air by his throat. From its mouth, spewing dust as well as words, it said, "Shu! Horus! Amon! Zehuti! Aton! Mehen!" Lightning burst through the ceiling of the museum and struck both beings violently. Sivana felt like his body was charging like a battery. The skeleton, however, decomposed rapidly into nothingness. As the lightning dispersed, a concussive shockwave sent both curator and monster flying away from each other. Sivana crashed onto the floor, while the remaining pieces of Adamtutamen-Teth were splattered against the fake pyramid.

Sivana struggled to get to his feet, but the blow from being propelled thirty feet through the air and landing hard on the floor forbade him. His eyes fluttered as his mind seemed to focus eerily on a single word. Before passing out, he muttered, "Shazam."

On the floor of the Khandaq museum, Dr. Sivana began to glow extraordinarily bright as electricity spread through his body, seemingly making him taller. His skull transformed from a salad-bowl shape into a perfectly rounded cranium. The wrinkles in the elderly curator's face shortened, smoothed out and disappeared completely. A face not his own supplanted Sivana's. Where once a frail old man lay, in its place was now a powerful, muscular figure. The black tuxedo fitting a man at five feet, four inches became rags.

The strange figure rolled over onto his belly and pushed to his feet. As he let out a groan, he stumbled toward a glass case where light from a ceiling fixture was reflected. Taking a look in the glass, the man that used to be Dr. Thaddeus Bodog Sivana grabbed his face, clutching at the skin. Sadistic laughter pierced the gigantic exhibition room.

* * *

The morning sun greeted the neighborhood of Cedar Hills in eastern Fawcett City. Birds chirped outside the window where Billy imagined that a lightning bolt had struck him. But that was impossible because the glass was completely intact and he didn't have a single scratch or burn mark on him. Most importantly, he hadn't felt any tingling from residual shock. In fact, Billy Batson had never felt better in his life. 

He dried his hair vigorously after coming from a quick shower. He set the towel down on his bed and put on a white T-shirt with a "Fawcett High Gladiators" logo on it. The logo showed a roman-style warrior holding out a sword and looking menacing. Turning on the radio, an anchor woman chimed in, "As the Celtics went on to lose forty-five to sixty-seven. An update on the catastrophic destruction of Fawcett Museum this morning; rescue crews have so far found no bodies yet managed to recover several artifacts that remain intact. The building had burst into flames when a bolt from last night's brief lightning storm struck the roof of the building, causing the entire structure to collapse."

Billy turned off the radio with his eyes wide and his thoughts clocking mach two. He wasn't imagining the lightning that struck him. But how in God's name did the window get repaired? He couldn't tell his parents about the lightning bolt that shattered the window that isn't really broken. They'd think he was nuts. But then again, he was beginning to think he was already hanging on to the sanity thread by one hand already.

Looking at the clock, he couldn't worry about going in for a CAT scan. School was starting and he had to cover two miles in fifteen minutes. Putting on his usual red sneakers and blue jeans quickly, Billy made his way downstairs. Clutching both his backpack and skateboard, he shouted out to his parents, who were in the living room watching the "Today" show. "Bye, mom! Bye, Dad! Love you!"

"Love you too, Billy! You're late! You better step on it!" Marilyn replied with a wink and smile.

"Mercury's got nothing on me, Mom! See ya!" he said, shutting the front door. Billy kicked up his skateboard, settled his feet underneath and landed, coasting casually. With each push of his foot, he felt the wind whipping his face almost painfully. With a gasp, he almost missed a turn to the road leading up to the town square. "Whoa! Came up on it rather fast," he muttered to himself.

Traversing through the walkways and past bystanders, while as simple as it always is, seemed to take place a lot quicker than it had yesterday from his perspective. Maybe it was just that he was in a hurry and time was of the essence. Looking around as he kicked his foot down, propelling himself forward, he noticed that people were taking slower steps. Vehicles didn't seem to move as fast as they normally would. It felt as if time itself seemed to stagger just for him. That was cool; it meant he could get to school before opening bell.

Slowing down his pace seemed to allow time to flow normally around him, which when he reached the school at five minutes before the bell was to ring, was a good thing. Kicking up his skateboard into his hands, Billy looked around for his best friend. "Freddy!" he shouted. He didn't quite see him through the crowd. A hand clasped onto his shoulder, forcing Billy to turn around quickly. He stared into the face of his best friend, Freddie Freeman.

"Triple B," Freddy said, clapping hands and bumping shoulders with his best friend. They'd known each other their whole lives. Freddie's father worked with Billy's father as a member of the staff at Fawcett University. While Billy's father taught, naturally, archaeology and ancient history, Freddie's father specialized in social and racial issues. Freddie, being born of a black man and a white woman, felt first hand the slings and arrows of outrageous attitudes and prejudices.

"Man, I had the weirdest night last night, bro," Billy said, walking with Freddy, "I left the museum early and…"

Freddy blurted in interruption, "Did you hear about that freak lightning storm that blew that place all to Hell?"

"Yeah, about that…"

"Did your parents get out of there alright? I mean I didn't know if the party was over or who was left or what not."

"They said it'd happened earlier this morning, but my parents got in around midnight so they're fine."

"That's cool, bro." Freddy and Billy entered Mrs. Rassmusen's classroom, which was their homeroom class. After taking their seats, sitting side by side, Freddy said, "So, I was talking to Sally and tried to work you in with her twin. You and her will be meeting later tonight at Fawcett Theater for an advanced screening of "Love Story 3: Reunion."

"'Love Story 3?' Oh my God, a chick flick?" Billy belted out in disgust.

Freddy sighed and leaned back in his desk, saying, "It's the only way to get her to go out with you. She's a big fan of the 'Love Story' movies. Plus you'll be taking her to the Outback steakhouse next door for dinner afterwards."

As the bell rang for homeroom to begin, Billy said, "Well, I thought women wanted men who were spontaneous."

"You see, my brother from another mother, your idea of spontaneous is taking a date to spot constellations, look at different word processors at Computer Hut, and give them a pop quiz in ancient Mayan civilization."

"Blame my parents, I think they instilled in me too much of the boring side of Indiana Jones."

"It'd be better instilling archaeology than paranoia about 'the man.'" Freddy leaned back, his face toward the ceiling.

Billy leaned in slightly. He could tell what was troubling his friend as he said, "Was your dad going on again about how Fawcett College would rather fund my dad's research project instead of your dad's?"

"Well, he HAD to know the board wouldn't fund a research project that would, as he put it, 'expose the President of the United States creating the hurricane that wiped out New Orleans. Plus, he controlled it using an XBOX controller."

"XBOX? Why not just use the old school Nintendo controller. No toggle sticks, just the usual directions, A, B, Select, and Start buttons. It'd do the job nicely."

"I figured he'd just as soon use a Wii controller and do it that way. At least you'd exercise more than just your fingers," Freddy chuckled. They settled into their seats as the final bell rang, signaling the beginning of the class period.

* * *

In a brownstone on the south side of Fawcett City, a doorknob turned unwillingly, breaking off of its moors. The sound was followed by lowered mutterings. The door itself jettisoned off the hinges, crashing into the living room. The wooden/polyurethane object destroyed a glass coffee table in the middle of a zebra-skinned carpeted floor. The living room was surrounded in dark green painted walls with various portraits of Doctor Sivana. 

A tall, tanned, muscular man entered the room. His magnificent torso was on display for the world to see. As proud as he was of his body, Adamtutamen-Teth didn't feel the need to draw more attention to himself than the swoons of the passing women (and oddly enough, some men). He hadn't fully adjusted to the transformation and being in this strange new era.

Once he had left the museum to burn, he wandered the streets for hours in Dr. Sivana's destroyed tuxedo. He happened upon a man sipping some kind of liquid in a glass bottle and spouting about bringing "sexy" back, whatever the Anubis that is.

It wasn't even worth the effort to slap the bottle and several teeth away from the man, yet he did so. While the fool bled all over the shirt, Adam tore the rags off of his own body. He then demanded the man dress Adam with his own clothes before he bled too much on them. He responded with spit. Adam responded back by putting him through a wall and taking the man's pants.

His might was the same. He'd made sure of that earlier with that puny little man he now inhabits. Locked forever inside will he be, never to escape. His name, however, would prove useful. There was indeed much to do and little time to do it. No doubt Shazam was free and already training the new champion to seek out and defeat him once again. He would have to put an end to that and soon.

"First thing's first," he said. Adam walked over to the telephone and began dialing. Another use for the good doctor was that he had extensive archaeological contacts. "Kahmed Mahmoud? Good evening to you, sir. My name is Adam Sivana. Thaddeus was my father. I regret to inform you that he is no longer with us. Yes, there was a terrible accident at the museum and he did not survive. I will not be taking on my father's position as curator. With that in mind, I will no longer need your services. I wish you luck in every endeavor." With that said, he hung up the phone abruptly.

Adam breathed in deeply and sneered at the look of the apartment. Even though he had no clue what half of the items in the abode were, he could tell the theme was 'pathetic.' There were no utensils to cook with, nor pots or pans in the cupboards. The only kind of food he could discern being ingested by the old man were "micro-wave-able" dinners. Apparently, the man's brilliance had nothing to do with culinary pleasures. However, Adam realized he would have to learn to adjust his palette to the tastes of this century. Who knows? Perhaps he would learn to like chick-en.

End part 1


	2. Chapter 2

It was 12:45 p.m. and Billy was walking toward his lunch table. It was coleslaw and chicken nugget day, which wasn't as bad as Spamwich day. However, it wasn't half as good as cheeseburger and French fries day. Nevertheless, he would stomach the sludge that passed for coleslaw and the meat byproduct that was thrown into the microwave (and possibly the floor once or twice). At least he would've until he felt something trip him up.

The tray flew into the air and smacked a massive young fellow on the back of his black leather jacket. Billy looked up to see motorcycles making up the crossbones in a skull and crossbones design on the jacket. In fact, they were on all the jackets at the table.

"This can't be good," muttered Billy. The group at the table stood up with the large man towering over everyone. The usual chaos of the lunchroom settled to see the development of the situation. The behemoth teen known as Gregory "Goliath" McKenzie turned around and saw Billy slowly getting to his feet. With the flat-top haircut he cleared six feet and nine inches. His round and bulky physique hid an underlying strength that made even most of the football team think twice before getting into it with him. He easily tipped the scales at three hundred pounds.

"Hey, Batshit," Goliath said, stepping from the table and directly into the young man face.

"Batshit" was a common nickname ignoramuses would use to pick on Billy if they ever came around to it. It wasn't exactly clever, even if they were calling him guano. "Hey, Goliath," he said with his voice trembling, "sorry about the jacket. I can pay to have it dry cleaned and…"

As the large young man stepped forward, he forced Billy back with a shove. "You know what," Goliath said, "That's okay, because I'll just take whatever you've got."

"I didn't say right now, I don't have that much money on me," Billy said, backing up some more.

"Then the rest I'm gonna take out of your ass," said the gigantic teen.

Billy tried to think quickly. "Hey, look, Hercules, calm down. I said I'd pay for it."

Goliath's face scrunched together and contempt filled his gaze. "Bet your ass you will, you little pussy!"

The crowd kept a circle around the pair as Billy tried leaving the area. Folks kept pushing him back into McKenzie's path. "Back off, man," Billy said to the approaching bully. "I said I'd pay for it. Now BACK OFF!" He screamed, throwing his arms forward. The crowd gasped as he was taken off his feet by the shove. He sailed onto a table eight feet away, cracking the plywood countertop.

Billy was just as stunned as the crowd at what he had just done. However, he was not as surprised as Goliath. The bully pushed himself in a huff off of the table. Rearing back his right fist and charging, the behemoth teen drove a fist right into Billy's face. All of a sudden, like in the streets on the way to school, time seemed to slow down. The punch, at first, came at him almost like a rocket. Now it approached with all the speed of a sloth. Not waiting to debate this odd yet familiar perspective, Billy sidestepped the attack before it connected to his face.

A loud crunch was audibly heard among the shocked bystanders. "SON OF A BITCH!" screamed Goliath at his hand as it crumpled. He held it under his arm and rolled in pain on the floor.

"Somebody get help!" Billy shouted.

"Did you see that?" a young man said.

A girl replied, "Which part, where Batson shoved the guy onto the table or moved five feet in one second?"

Goliath's friends went to see to their fallen comrade but stopped when they saw Billy still in the area. "Stay away from us, you freak!" one of them shouted.

Two police officers working security detail approached Billy and grabbed him by his shirt. "Hold it right there, kid," said the one on his right. Billy still couldn't believe what had transpired. A thought popped into his head, suggesting he use the same strength he used to propel Goliath through the air to escape the officers. The proceeding thought then smacked the sense into him that he'd be in a lot more trouble if he did resist.

The other officer touched the radio microphone on his right shoulder and said, "10-52, 10-52, we need a bus at Fawcett City High School. We have a serious injury, possible compound fractures in patient's right hand."

* * *

Miles and miles of sand stretched from eternity to eternity. Neither trees nor a drop of water were visible in any direction. To the naked eye, nothing of consequence had ever taken place in this spot.

Adam knew better. His body hovered over the empty dunes clad only in black costume made out of what the shop girl referred to as "span-decks" It was skin-tight and clung to his muscular form almost like an adhesive. Though rather uncomfortable, it was preferable than to do what he was about to do in the nude. Even gods hate getting sand in uncomfortable places.

Like a drill, Adam spun with great velocity and then slammed into the sand, burrowing deep underground. Five seconds later, his feet collided with solid stone, indicating he had hit some kind of roof. Coming in from the north, he pushed westward through the sand until his foot lost touch with the stone surface he had walked upon.

Digging downward through the sand, Adam turned around toward the east to find a large wall blocking his path. Feeling the creases and lining in the walls, he could tell there were markings. Digging downward for another minute, he found the bottom of the wall which connected to a solid stone floor. Positioning his arms, Adam pulls the wall upward. Sand began to fill as he lifted the wall higher. He stepped through the entry way and let the wall fall back down.

Even though there was no light, Adam knew exactly where he was. Reaching to his right, he snatched a torch from the wall close to him. Tapping the end with his index finger, a spark of lightning lit the torch, staving off the darkness as he walked forward.

Hieroglyphs littered the walls, though not necessarily telling any sort of story. They were praises to an almighty ruler who had built this construct with his own hands centuries ago. Although more than a little egocentric, Adam liked to toot his own horn.

Adam knew this place well. He has used it to house the spoils of his victories over countless other kingdoms. He had more than enough riches within the depths of this catacomb to start a whole new country. Or at least fund a takeover. Diplomats, he had heard, have immunity in the United States from criminal prosecution. Perhaps he could fund a political campaign under a pretty looking fool. It was happening more and more these days, according to the knowledge he retained from Dr. Sivana.

He would first, however, need to deal with the traps he had laid for anyone foolish enough to try and steal from his cache. Though no archaeologists had been to this building, he wasn't sure about the rest of the world over the centuries. In fact, he had not a clue if the riches he possessed were still inside. He was not the only person who could move the gigantic stone door physically. The very first trap, a stalactite triggered by stepping on a loose stone, would be coming up shortly.

A necklace appeared on the ground right next to a stalactite that was stuck into the floor. Leaning down, Adam picked up the necklace. Smirking, he recognized the sapphire beads, the band made of horse-hair, and golden plates with symbols of Ra. It belonged to his grand vizier, Vehuti. Though loyal, he was a greedy fool who could never resist the look of anything golden. From coins to women covered in golden paint, if it was golden, he desired it. One time, Adam caught Vehuti naked trying to swim in the palace treasury. He said it brought him closer to Ra. He almost introduced the vizier to him personally.

Dropping the necklace, Adam wondered how long it took Vehuti to find this place. The man could locate a gold coin in a sandstorm at night, Adam once proclaimed. Adam walked away from his greedy vizier's final resting place.

The second trap, he remembered, was to be a word puzzle using the symbols found on the walls. The trick was matching the wizard's name by vertically moving a series of keys featuring hieroglyphs. If they got the password wrong, they would fall through a trap door. The fall would send them twenty feet below into a pit of water with six foot spikes hidden just underneath the water's surface. Since he never told anyone Shazam's name and he wanted to keep people away from his gold, the puzzle was merely a way of dashing the hopes of any poor fool who would try to steal his treasures.

Adam had laughed at the fools who thought that they could bring their riches into the afterlife. He understood no one wanting their possessions stolen by grave robbers. Archeology seemed, to him, not so much exploration of past civilizations as it was a legal form of grave robbing; such is why he had built this building himself so many centuries ago.

He stopped at the edge of the pit. The puzzle defiantly towered over the withered skeletal remains with a golden necklace around its neck. Dust, time, corrosion and spikes riddled a white dress. Looking down at the failed result of trying to steal his treasure, Adam smiled. He floated off the ground toward the word puzzle. After he moved the right combination of glyphs to say Shazam, the pit vanished as two panels folded upward to complete a solid floor. The wall moved to the side, opening to a staircase leading downward.

With the torch lighting his path into a seemingly endless abyss of stairs, Adam could barely contain his glee. He had already formulated his plan to build a new empire. Using the riches collected in this vault, he would create his own business. With the wisdom of Zehuti guiding his steps, Adam would begin a meteoric rise into politics. If this age was anything like the one he had left behind, with wealth came power. The kind of power to do anything you wanted regardless of legality. It was also the kind of power that one could use to put like minded people in office, to create laws and mold the country into anything they wished.

If anything, Adam knew that in any century, the masses are as sheep. The greater the numbers, the smaller the collective IQ, he thought. However, with this more technologically advanced era, more opinions could be heard around the planet. This meant that the sheep were hearing the voices of more than one shepherd. So it came down to who sounded the friendliest, spoke loudest, and drowned out their opposition. It wasn't like in Adam's day when one could just kill their enemy and be done with it. Yes, Adam would need to be careful as well as cunning.

Reaching the vault door, he set down the torch and grabbed the handles on its face. With little effort, he rolled the door to the side. Picking up the torch, he eyed the mountains and mountains of gold coins and artifacts in the fifty foot by one hundred foot room. He walked around to one pile of coins and found a glove made to fit someone's right hand. "The Claw of Horus," said Adam. It would definitely come in handy when facing Shazam's champion.

Looking past another towering pile of coins, he found a ceremonial headdress. Rubies, gold, emeralds and sapphire gems littered the apparel. If the sun had shone through the place, it would have made the headdress shimmer radiantly. It was no ordinary garment, however. With this, Adam could control the sand itself to rise up and take the form of an endless regenerating legion with which to conquer any kingdom. It wouldn't be of use in the modern sand-less cities of this age, unfortunately.

Adam pulled out a bag tucked within his suit and opened it up. He decided it was time to get to work and begin taking what he needed to create his fortune.

* * *

C.C. began hanging white paper banners saying "Welcome Home, Mary!" along the patio window in the dining room. "You sure she was joking about sending Billy to the garage?"

"Of course she was, hon," Marilyn said with a smile. She pulled down the oven door and pulled out a pan of brownies. After setting them on the kitchen counter, she pulled off the oven mitts and put them up. "I hope she likes the brownies. I didn't have much time after finding out how soon she'd be coming back."

"As long as you aren't using the same recipe that you used for Aunt Vera's birthday party last year," he said.

She picked up the pan of brownies and dumped them into Marilyn said. "Unearth ancient Egyptian ruins and the family doesn't care. Give seventeen people diarrhea and they never let you forget it."

"Sorry, honey. But the Bromfeld method of baking brownies just doesn't sit well with our Batson stomachs," He replied, before inflating one last balloon. It was added to the twelve balloons tied, three per seat to the dining room chairs.

"I just wish the museum hadn't have burned down. Especially since we never got the payment from Sivana for the exhibit," Marilyn sighed, adjusting her pink t-shirt and jeans.

Tucking in his white button-up shirt underneath the top of his khaki pants, C.C. said, "I know. Wasn't that call from Kahmed strange, too? I had no idea Dr. Sivana had a son."

"Not to speak ill of the missing/presumed dead, but I had no idea he had been intimate with anything that didn't have at least two hundred years mileage and wrapped in ceremonial garments."

He arched his brow and shot a look of feigned surprise. C.C. said, "Why do some people put disclaimers on their insults? It's so disingenuous."

Marilyn ran the now brownie-less pan under the sink to wash off the remnants. She replied, "Because it makes our proceeding insults seem not as malicious."

"I know he creeped you out, sweetheart, but…" a knock interrupted C.C's rebuttal. The couple ran over to the front door and opened it together with expectant smiles.

A brunette with bouncy shoulder length hair showed up with a bright smile, white tank top and jean shorts. "Mom! Dad!" shouted Mary Batson, throwing her arms around the couple.

"Hey, there's my little girl!" C.C. said, before taking a look at her wardrobe, "Looking like Britney Spears threw up on her."

Mary rolled her eyes and tossed a smirk towards her father, "Dad, your fashion sense is as old as the Byzantines but I still love you."

He squeezed his daughter tightly and said, "Lost the clothes but kept her brains. Small favors."

"Quiet, you," Marilyn said with a light slap on her husband's arm, "Come on in, sweetie! C.C. would you…"

"I know, I know, bags, Jeeves," he replied, picking up the suitcases left by his daughter on the front porch.

As Marilyn and Mary walked into the front room, Mary whispered, "You didn't bake brownies, did you?"

"Ugh! It never ends," her mother replied, "Welcome home, honey." Mary's eyes welled up at the sight of the decorations hastily made for her arrival.

"So where do you want the bodies you put in your suitcases?" C.C. grunted vigorously, setting the luggage on the floor.

"Daddy," Mary said, "I left for Gotham U with one outfit and a plane ticket. Fashion world's like being in the Marine Corps. You accessorize, adapt, and overcome."

"Thought it was improvise," he said, sitting down in the dining room with a huff.

Shaking her head, Mary retorted, "No no, Dad. Improvising is too big a risk unless you're creating something new or planning a mish-mash and as savvy as I am, I'm not a trendsetter."

Marilyn opened the refrigerator, "Let's have a toast. What're you in the mood for, since we won't be having my 'gets you up in the middle of the night and clogs the toilet for days' brownies?"

With a slight chuckle, Mary said, "Do you have any beer?" C.C. and Marilyn froze where they were. They instantly threw simultaneous glares at their only daughter. "Yeesh. Gimme a second to take out the daggers you just shot at me."

C.C. stood up let out a hefty sigh followed with a smile. "I'm sorry, honey. We just," C.C. said putting his arm around the woman he'd always consider his little girl, "we just aren't used to you doing things like drinking beer and meeting guys."

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I meet girls." Mary said with a vapid smile. Seeing the look of shock on her father's face, made her laugh and lightly tap him on the arm. "I'm just kidding, daddy. I'm not a lesbian."

"Coronary or bust, I see," he said, sitting back down at the dining room table.

Marilyn said, pulling out three bottles of beer and handing one to each of them. "Sweetie, what your father is trying to say is we expected a lot of responsibility from you and maybe it wasn't fair. But we're glad you turned out to be such a beautiful, blossoming woman with a bright future."

Mary, taking the drink in hand, said, "Because college regularly produces alcoholic sluts who only learn enough to earn enough money to hop from club to club, right?"

C.C. spoke up and said, "You forget that when I'm not out digging up ancient civilizations I'm seeing our current one walk around in form-fitting outfits with a drink in one hand and a fellow carbon based life form of genders known and unknown in the other."

"Dad, you teach college, that…Why am I even having this conversation with you? Shouldn't we be celebrating?"

Marilyn nodded, popping the top of her celebratory beverage. She chimed in, "Here freakin' here, honey."

"I'm sorry, Mary," C.C. said, opening his beer and taking a small swig. "I was just having a dad moment there. They'll happen more often as you get older. It's just…"

"I know, Dad," Mary replied with a hug, "It's tough to see your little girl grown up. Besides, I don't drink all that much anyway; and if I do, it's only on special occasions."

"Stock up on heart pills when you have kids, honey. That's all I'm gonna say," he said, downing another gulp of beer.

The phone next to Marilyn rang, breaking the bonding moment between C.C. and Mary. "Hello, Batson residence," said Marilyn, "Yes. This is Marilyn Batson, Billy's mom. What? He got into a fight? Oh Lord."

C.C. and Mary stood up with a look of concern, "Billy was in a fight, again?" he said.

"Again?" Mary said, looking quizzically at her father.

C.C. nodded and said, "It happens every now and then. Not as much as it does to the nerds or fat kids, though. Me and your mom haven't affected him THAT much."

"He's young. Give it time," Mary said, taking a gulp of her drink and setting the bottle down.

Marilyn talked into the phone, "Yes, we'll be right there. Bye." After hanging up, she walked to the front door, saying, "Billy's at the principal's office. While you two were chattering, I heard that the kid Billy was fighting has a broken hand."

"Billy broke someone's hand?" C.C. replied.

Mary followed up with, "Billy broke someone's something?"

"Mary…"

"Sorry, mom, just never thought Billy was the type to go Chuck Norris on anybody. Not that you didn't try with sending us to martial arts classes."

C.C. said, "Said little Miss Black belt."

Mary left her father in the kitchen and caught up with Marilyn at the front door and said, "Wait, mom. Let me go change into something more presentable. I'll be right with you. Besides, it'd be worth it to see the look on Billy's face."

* * *

Billy sat solemnly in a chair outside the principal Beck's office with Officer Romanowski standing watch over him. The EMTs had been tending to Goliath's broken hand while the students were still muttering their surprise at how strong and fast Billy had become.

The receptionist, forty eight year old Vera Binder, was looking over at Officer Romanowski and throwing a wink. He tried his hardest not to pay any attention. She was getting on in years and becoming more and more open about who she would flirt with.

Principal Gloria Tyson, a beautiful thirty-five year old blond in a blue dress opened the door into her office, saying, "Billy? Come on in, please." He complied, walking into a yellow painted room decorated by plaques holding PhDs and family photos. "We've called your parents and they should be on their way here, soon. As a matter of fact, I believe your sister will be starting an internship here next week."

"Thank you for the reminder," he said, a shiver going down his spine.

Principal Tyson looked Billy up and down before sitting at her desk. "Tell me what happened," said Principal Tyson as she leaned back to listen.

"Well," he replied, "I was just going to go sit at a table and enjoy the delicious and ever nutritious coleslaw and chicken nugget lunch you…"

Holding up her hand, she cut him off by saying, "Please, I don't like it anymore than you do." To illustrate her point further, she held up a brown paper bag and then set it back down.

Billy cleared his throat and continued the story, "Well, I tripped, spilling my lunch all over Goliath…Greg's back. The next thing I know, the other kids were gathering around me and I shoved him."

"Eight feet away onto a lunch table," she added.

"Yes. Then he got up and threw a punch at me," Billy started.

Principal Tyson interrupted, "Which you ducked away from at the textbook definition of 'the last possible second,' leaving his hand to shatter against the brick wall."

"I thought I was telling the story, ma'am," he said arching his brow.

"Lower your brow, Spock," Principal Tyson said pointing her index finger at the young man, "You did throw the first punch, though."

"How do you figure?"

"You shoved him."

"I'm certain he would've hit me if I didn't."

"He tried to hit you because you did."

"No, he was going to hit me anyway because…"

"I don't want to hear it anymore, Billy. I'm giving you one day's detention starting tomorrow."

"Detention for def---AAAHHH!!!!" Billy let out a horrified scream. The white robed figure that he'd seen from last night materialized behind the principal. Billy jumped out of his seat and backed against the door. "Stay away from me! Get away!" he shouted.

"My son, he said, reaching his hands to the frightened teenager, "Do not be afraid."

Principal Tyson stood quickly from her desk and said, "Young man, sit down!"

The wizard walked forward, passing through the principal and her desk. His arms still outstretched toward Billy. Looking at what he had just done, he said, "Okay, I can see how that might be a little disconcerting but still, you have nothing to fear from me."

"Except another lightning bolt, right, Zeus?" Billy shouted, touching the door handle. A bright spark jolted Billy off his feet and sent him crashing against the wall. The young man laid prone on the floor in a daze.

Principal Tyson stood in utter bewilderment at what had transpired. Officer Romanowski entered, seeing Billy on the floor and looking to the principal.

"He just freaked out and then went for the door and suddenly threw himself against the wall."

The wizard looked on with a sneer and said, "Nothing gets by you, does it?"

The police officer bent down to help Billy awake, saying, "Billy? Billy, you okay?"

As Billy came to, he saw the wizard standing over him, next to the principal. She looked Billy in the eyes and said, "I can't tell from here but do you think he's on something?"

"It would explain the hallucinations and increased strength," Officer Romanowski replied, "but we should have a doctor look at him just in case."

"You think me a mere phantasm of the boy's psyche?" the wizard said, "Just so you know, I use the term 'think' loosely."

Billy mumbled out, "Magic…"

"What did he say?" the principal said reaching for the phone.

"M-Magic…keep the old guy away from me…"

"Old guy? Billy, I'm only thirty six I'll have you know," Romanowski chuckled.

"No," Billy tried to point but felt too woozy, "Man in…white…"

The wizard kicked his heels and danced around in a circle while the principal and police officer stared. "There's no one else here, Billy."

"Yes, because you have such a firm grasp of the concept of astral projection. Only you can see or hear me, son."

"Let's get him to a hospital and get him looked at," the officer said. The principal dialed 911 while the wizard sat back and laughed at their incompetence.

End part 2


	3. Chapter 3

Adam looked out the window of the 8 p.m. flight from Khandaq to New York City. The dark clouds parted as the plane flew right through them. The stars that he could see through the tiny window were bright and unhidden. He wanted to fly under his own power, but with Zehuti's wisdom, he figured that one lone man flying through countries would draw suspicious looks and then attacks from the territories he flew over. Adam didn't want to be forced into global exposure any sooner than was absolutely necessary.

A stewardess walked toward Adam's row and said, "Excuse me, sir?" He turned to face a lovely red-haired woman who reminded him of a concubine he had during the celebration of Horus. "Would you like a beverage, sir?"

"Yes," he replied, "I'll have the Merlot."

"I'm sorry, sir. We don't have that in our selection. We have root beer, sprite, diet coke, and water."

"I'll have the Sprite, please." He would never get used to saying that word. It was for peasants, servants and people pleading for him to spare their pathetic, insolent lives. Royalty should never have to say that word, not even when speaking with other royals. A true ruler never begs.

The government of Egypt had written a sizeable check for all of the golden coins and rubies Adam had turned in to them. Four million dollars, a meager treasure in this era, and it is held within a thin sheet of paper. The mortal race had advanced itself a great deal through the centuries.

The young woman returned with his drink. Taking a gulp of the fluid into his system, Adam remarked, "It is nothing like drinking fairies. But it suffices, thank you." That was another word he would have to grow accustomed to using.

The second part of his plan was to begin the minute he set foot in New York City. Adam needed to further develop his new modern identity. To do so, he would go to New York and look up a person who specialized in fabricating computer documents. A Hak-er, if he recalled correctly. One wouldn't be too hard to find in the American criminal justice system.

From then, phase three would be simple enough. Create an identity to build his new empire upon. Adam Sivana sounded well enough.

* * *

Billy opened his eyes and let out a groan which turned into a scream when he saw his surroundings. He looked to his left to find a window displaying the setting sun and the steep forty-two foot drop. To his right, he saw a light brown heavy wooden door as well as the white tiles. Directly in front of him stood the white-robed long bearded gentleman he saw just before he blacked out. 

Billy wanted to jump from the bed and scream out, but he found that his wrists and ankles were strapped down. "Stay away from me, man," the young man said scooting as best as he could against the bed.

The wizard walked over to Billy's left side and said, "If you really wanted to leave, you would've broken free of those bonds with little effort." He touched the side railing.

"What do you want with me?" Billy said with a quivering voice.

The aged wizard took the young man's hand in his own and said, "My name is Shazam. Thousands of years ago, I was but a mortal, like you are now. The Lords of Order had chosen me to become their champion for justice. For centuries on, I battled evils too horrible to describe. Demons, beasts you consider being only myths, even mortals overpowered by greed, wrath, violence and evil.

"However, the Lords of Order had chosen me to rise in power, making me one of the most powerful wizards in the universe. This meant I had to choose a new champion. I was charged with overseeing his progress as well as aiding and advising him when necessary. I scoured lands far and wide, happening upon a young man named Adamtutamen-Teth."

"What did you say?" Billy said, his eyes squinting at recognizing the name.

"Yes, the former occupant of the very tomb your parents had excavated. The very same being whose body and treasures were brought here to Fawcett City. The very same being…"

"Who killed Dr. Sivana and burned down the museum…"

"I beg your pardon?" said Shazam taking a step back.

"On the radio, they said that…no. No, this can't be happening. None of this can be happening! It's impossible!"

Looking out the window, the wizard replied, "In my day, if you told me mortals would fly through the air in the bellies of giant metal birds that cannot flap their wings; I would have said the same thing."

"Come on, that's different. You're talking about---" Billy said laying his head back on his pillow and letting out a heavy sigh. He couldn't even say the word.

"Magic is the word you are looking for, I assume," the wizard said, looking directly at the beleaguered young man. He put up a half-smile and said, "Getting back to my story, I found Adamtutamen-Teth with his home and family slaughtered by a roving band of marauders. He had nothing in his life to give him purpose except to end it.

"That is where I came in. I felt sorry and responsible that even with my great power granted to me, I could not save them. I could, however, give the young man a chance to have meaning and purpose in his life as well as justice for his slain loved ones and people. And so I entrusted unto him the abilities of six Egyptian Gods.

"Shu grants unto him unlimited endurance and stamina. Horus grants him the power of speed and flight. Amon gives him immeasurable physical strength. Zehuti grants him the wisdom of the ages. Aton makes him invulnerable and grants him the power to channel his other abilities to perfection as well as perform magic, and Mehen lends the young man boundless courage and strength of mind."

"Jesus Christ," Billy said with his eyes wide and mouth agape.

The wizard's eyebrows arched and he replied, "No, Adamtutamen didn't borrow any powers from him. But I am a fan of his."

Billy looked up at his guest and said, "So everything the legends said about him were true?"

Nodding, Shazam said, "Unfortunately, the times were a lot different back then. Justice came in the way of death and Adamtutamen felt it was his destiny to receive the awesome power he was granted. He was bound and determined to create a kingdom which would never fall.

"I told him that the powers of the Gods that I gave to him were not to be misused and were most certainly not for personal gain. He responded by beating me brutally. He displayed my broken and defeated body for all to see. I managed to survive the attack to go and beseech the Gods themselves to reclaim their power from Adam. Their will would override mine if they agreed.

They did not agree, sadly enough. They decreed that since I had granted Adam access to them, that I alone should be the one to stop him. But I cannot rescind my spell. So, I went into the desert and formulated a plan."

Billy interrupted, looking toward the door, "Look, uh, what's your name again?"

"Shazam."

"Right," Billy said with a snap of his fingers, "This is a fascinating story but what does this all have to do with me? Am I under some kind of curse because my parents…" the young men lowered his voice in a mock menacing tone, "Dared to violate Adam's tomb and free him?"

Shazam clutched the young man's throat and squeezed slightly. To Billy, though, he felt his neck would snap at any second. But with his hands still restrained, he couldn't stop him or even call for help.

"Actually," the wizard said gritting his teeth, "if you had been kind enough to let me finish my story, I would tell you EXACTLY how you're involved. So unless I have to have your mouth sealed like it wasn't even there…and it wouldn't be the first time I've done it to someone…You will be silent. Am I being perfectly understood?"

Billy nodded as much as he could, his face turning a dark purple from the vice grip the old man had on his throat. Once Shazam released his hold, the young man took in loud, coughing breaths. "Like I said, I formulated a plan to deal with Adamtutamen-Teth. First, I created the very sarcophagus that imprisoned him for many millennia. Upon completing it, I encased inside the mummified remains of a long forgotten king. Adam's life essence and power would be transferred into the corpse upon the first touch. His mortal host body would perish instantly, leaving him trapped forever in living death.

The young man who had been hearing this tale remarked, "That's cold-blooded, man."

Ignoring the comment, Shazam continued his tale, "So I, in disguise, presented the sarcophagus to Adam as a gift from a neighboring kingdom. I had told him it was filled with a magical item that would allow him to become more than an immortal, but to become immune to the touch of death.

"Adam couldn't open the sarcophagus fast enough. His lust for power blinded him to my charade. Once he had seen my ruse, he knew it was too late. As I had planned, his life essence and power were trapped in a mummified corpse.

"There was only one problem, six beings of power appeared to me, seeing what I had done. They decided that my solution was not enough to satisfactorily resolve the problem. So they had created a body with which to house their powers. The body would lay dormant in eternity, as I would, until the time when Adamtutamen-Teth would be reawakened."

"Let me guess," Billy said, interrupting once again, "Whosoever awakens Adam…becomes the new champion."

"Becomes the host of the new champion," Shazam replied, "Within you right now is a being of awesome power, created by a sextet of entities and gods to combat Adamtutamen-Teth. The new champion possesses Solomon's boundless wisdom, Hercules's incalculable strength, Atlas's unending stamina and endurance, Zeus's awesome power, immortality, and control of lightning, Achilles' unwavering courage, and Mercury's great speed and flight. When you spoke the names of Mercury, Hercules and Zeus earlier, you received a mere sampling, a drop, of their power."

"Sucks to be me…" Billy says, closing his eyes in exhaustive contemplation.

"Since you have already spoken the names of Hercules, Zeus and Mercury, all you have to do now is speak the remaining three names. After that, he will be set free."

"And then Adam becomes _his_ problem, not mine?" the young man said with a whiny, yet hopeful tone.

Shazam, growing visibly tired of Billy's impatience, rolled his eyes. Rubbing his eyes with his left hand, he said, "Yes, yes, just do it already. Just say 'Solomon' 'Atlas' 'Achilles.' And then my name."

"Okay," he replied, "Solomon, Atlas, Achilles," Then he paused. Billy's mind suddenly became bombarded by a thought. He began to sense that his troubles were not over, but would be only just beginning. The wizard seemed to be losing patience and he had heard a knock on the door. With haste, Billy uttered out the name, "Shazam."

Lightning surged through is body and enveloped him. The crackling of the energy rang like thunder in his ears. He couldn't even hear himself scream. Within an instant that felt like eternity, Billy Batson blacked out.

* * *

C.C. Marilyn and Mary Batson sat in the waiting room at St. David's memorial hospital in downtown Fawcett City. C.C. put a cup of coffee down onto a stack of outdated magazines. Marilyn and Mary sat together on the other side of the table, watching the television. 

"I can't believe it," Mary said shaking her head, "My baby brother might be on drugs."

"Mary Batson!" Marilyn said, turning sharply toward her daughter, "How dare you say that! The doctor hasn't come back with anything to prove that."

"But mom, look at what the facts are. Hallucinations, heightened strength; it's all things associated with being on drugs."

C.C. spoke up sternly with his index finger aimed harshly, "Mary, you listen here, young lady. I know you and Billy haven't always gotten along. But I'm not going to sit here and listen to you accuse your brother of something that hasn't been proven."

Mary fired back, leaning past her mother, "Like the times he accused me of bringing boys over while you and mom were gone? Even though you had only his word to go on, you didn't mind letting him accuse me!"

Marilyn said, "That was because I found cigarette butts in our trash can. None of us smoke, so what were we supposed to think? That Billy somehow bought them and smoked them to frame you?"

"While wearing ruby red lipstick, as well?" C.C. chimed in.

"One time! I only did it one time!" the young woman replied in a shout.

"Stop it! This isn't helping!" Marilyn said, holding her arms out in front of both husband and daughter. "We're not here to argue over stuff in the past! We should be concentrating on Billy! We need to wait until the doctor gets back."

The silence fell hard. Mary huffed, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. She didn't want to cross her legs for the business skirt would ride high, giving some pervert a free show. She hated being the black sheep of the family. Even though all she was doing was being a rebellious teenager, she felt that she was always trying to prove Mary Batson was a good girl. She had grown out of the rebel phase like everyone else did and wanted to move on. Apparently they enjoyed antagonizing her way too much for that to matter.

C.C. picked up a "Reader's Digest" from 1997 and began to read it, faking interest. Why did that girl insist on doing things that frustrated both him and Marilyn? First, it was the boys in the house while she babysat Billy, then the smoking; then finally she went to college in Gotham City of all places. He had heard of the reputation of it being a town of thugs, crazies and urban legends. He'd even heard one about a Man-Bat or Bat-Man or something. Mary would indeed be the death of him, of that he was certain.

Marilyn looked over to her daughter and wondered with sorrowful eyes where she went wrong. Perhaps it was the constant blaming of things on her. Maybe she and C.C. were being too hard on her. And teens do like to disobey their parents and treat them like they are idiots. But then again that's no excuse for her behavior toward Billy. He needed them now more than ever before.

But what if Mary was right and Billy had been taking drugs? Was it during the time when they were gone in Khandaq? She knew they couldn't reach him by phone out there in the middle of nowhere, but being lonely was no reason to resort to…

A tall, slender blonde with her hair tied in a ponytail walked into the waiting room. Her white doctor's coat and green scrubs clung tightly to her firm body though she showed no awareness of it in her demeanor. Holding a clipboard and flipping papers to see Billy's toxicology reports, her eyes went wide.

"Dr. Morris?" Marilyn said, walking from her chair, "What's wrong?"

Mary and C.C. stood by Marilyn's side while the doctor shakily explained, "Mrs. Batson. I—I have no idea how to say this. But your son's blood came back completely clean. "

Mary felt like she had been sucker-punched. She had to hear it again. "Excuse me?" she said.

"We've run test after test and we haven't found traces of anything in his blood. He checked out absolutely normal. There are no drugs in his system."

C.C. ran a hand through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief but still couldn't help but be puzzled. "Doctor," he said, "Please understand; we're happy that he's fine, but…how is that possible with all the side-effects that he exhibited at school?"

Dr. Morris shook her head and said, "I honestly do not know. But we can keep him overnight to see if he is exhibiting the same symptoms. If so, then we might have to consider the possibility that the problem might be psychological. If that is the case, I can refer you to our psychologist. Dr. Beautia Sivana. She's one of the most decorated psychologists in the mid-west."

Marilyn said, "S-Sivana?"

"Yes. Dr. Thaddeus Sivana was her father. They don't like to advertise it, but it's true." Dr. Morris shyly said.

The lights suddenly dimmed and flickered rapidly, startling everyone in the waiting room. Once it stopped, Dr. Morris heard her pager go off. Looking at it, she said, "Excuse me, please."

As Dr. Morris flew down the hallway in a sprint, she heard heart monitors going off everywhere. Code Blue to the left of her, Code Blue to the right of her. She couldn't be everywhere at once.

Bursting through the door to Billy's room, she found the room devoid of life except for a confused resident. "What the hell happened?! What's Mr. Batson?"

The young male resident said, "I don't know! I came to check in on him and I found the bed empty!" Sure enough, there was no Billy Batson to be found. The restraints were singed and the bed itself was absolutely charred.

"We have to find him, you hear me?" the doctor said frantically, "His family is going to sue the hell out of us if we don't!"

"Well, what do we do?" he said trying to hold back panic.

The Batsons entered the room in force, Marilyn shouting, "I heard someone say there was something wrong with this floor and…" C.C. and Mary's faces were scrunched identically with confusion and anger. Marilyn's face lost all color as she fell away, fainting into the arms of her loved ones.

* * *

Adam shot awake and felt a cold chill climbing down his spine. Suddenly a flash of a young teenager's face became the only thing he saw for a split second. As his vision returned to normal, a smile of a hungry lion crept onto his face. "What took you so long?" he said to himself.

* * *

He opened his eyes, yet still found himself surrounded in darkness. He sluggishly tried to get to his feet. It proved harder than usual. His body felt like it weighed a ton. He got to one knee and pushed himself to a stand. He felt his momentum carry him backwards. Hitting a wall, he heard brick chipping and breaking next to him. He still couldn't see anything for some reason. He held out his hands and stumbled in the dark. 

His foot dipped forward, making him pause hesitantly. Was it a step on a flight of stairs or was it a ledge to a roof? A momentary loss of body control decided for him. He let out a shout and took a tumble downward. Fortunately for him, it was a flight of stairs. Finally, the object that had kept him blind was removed and he could see himself spinning out of control.

Finally coming to a stop at the foot of the stairs, he looked up to see the fluorescent lights of a subway. He turned onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. A reflection in a display window caught his eye. Turning to face it, he saw the most weirdly dressed man he'd ever seen.

A tall Caucasian male stood about six feet three inches tall. He wore golden bracelets and golden colored boots. A golden sash was wrapped around his waist, just above a pair of bright red pants. A shiny golden lightning bolt was emblazoned on a red tunic. A button on his right shoulder clipped the tunic closed while a white cape with golden trimmings was draped around his back and right shoulder.

The first thought was _this guy looks absolutely ridiculous! No self-respecting man would want be caught…_ Noticing that the reflection moved along with his movements, the man realized that he was the reflection. That it was him dressed like a buffoon.

But who was he? He had vague memories of being in high school fairly recently. His mom, dad and annoying big sister were also in his mind. But their names were escaping him for the moment. Ba...Bat…Bats…Baseball Bats…

A wooden baseball bat crashed into his skull from out of nowhere. It shattered into splinters upon impact though he hadn't even felt the blow. Another bat, this one metallic, clanged against the back of his knee and bounced right off. Suddenly, a ratty-clothed man swung another metal bat directly into his face. The red tunic-wearing man caught it in his hand. In his grip, it folded like a sheet of paper.

He felt the other two assailants grab his wrists. With a turn and the smallest of efforts, they left their feet and sailed through the air. One crashed into the stairway, the other crashed into a vending machine.

The third hoodlum leaped at the strangely-attired man. But he grabbed the attacker's wrists, unwittingly snapping them in his hands. With a foot on the chest, he kicked the mugger over him, sending him through a subway ticket booth, his bloody broken remains skidding across the concrete floor. None of the attackers were getting up anytime soon.

He looked around, wondering why those men would try to kill him. Finally his gaze came upon the old man off in the distance near the platform. He remembered the wizard vividly. He thought about calling his name but then thought twice. He knew anything that was said would be directed at him.

Shazam clapped his hands with a smile that couldn't be pried off with a crowbar. "Wonderful," he said with a laugh. "You've finally arrived, my champion. How does it feel?"

"What have you done to me, you son of a bitch?" The man said, hoisting the wizard up by his white robe.

While his bare feet dangled a foot from the ground, Shazam said, "What are you talking about?"

"I wake up and I'm throwing people around like they're footballs. I don't even look like me…and I don't know how I know that!" he shouted, putting his free hand over his hair and face.

Concern flashed over Shazam's face for the first time in a millennium. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I don't know my name! WHO AM I, YOU BASTARD!!!"

The wizard simply replied, "Billy?"

"Batson…" the man concluded, "No. I have his…memories…his voice is in my head…but I'm not…I don't look like…" his voice trailed off. He set Shazam down onto the floor. Turning away, he held his head in his hands.

The aged elder touched him on the shoulder, only to have it be pulled away. Looking downward, Shazam said, "No. You are not Billy. But you are not exactly a mortal, either. You were created by the six beings who grant you your tremendous power. Billy is simply the host. His life-force and yours are joined. By speaking my name, he gave you life and corporeal form. You no longer dwell mindless in the abyss waiting for your chance to fulfill your purpose as a beacon of hope, order and justice."

"So where's Billy?"

"He is within you. Likewise, when you say my name, you will be within him. You will be the voice inside his head as he is now yours."

"What do I do now?" he said, "What do I call myself?"

"You know the reason why you were created and who you must ultimately face. But until the time comes when you meet him in combat…you will be Fawcett City's guardian. Its protector from those its knights in blue cannot touch. A Captain of Justice. A Marvel of law and order. Ah. There is your name. Captain Marvel."

"Couldn't I just use 'Bob?'"

To be continued….


	4. First Steps

Ultimate Shazam: First Steps

Captain Marvel, the Batson Family, Mr. Atom, Sabbac, Shazam, Black Adam, Doctor Sivana and Beautia Sivana are all property of DC comics.

Scientists from every major city across the country had gathered to Jefferson Coliseum for the thirty-first annual Fawcett City science expo. Star City, Gotham, Metropolis, all came to view the rapidly expanding technological advances. From hybrid computer systems to new advancements in law enforcement weaponry, the science community and especially the military were excited to see the new steps being taken in human technological advancement.

Clyde Frasier adjusted his gray suit jacket and gray tie to prepare his project for the unveiling. He had prepared for this day since the first time he saw the "Mr. Robot" wind-up doll his mom gave him when he was 6. It made a racket whenever it was wound up and moved despite being made almost entirely out of plastic. Clyde loved the precious thing all the more.

Like all things, to his great dismay, "Mr. Robot" fell into old age, exacerbated by the wear and tear that a child usually can inflict upon it. It drove him to cry for hours that one final time he turned the wind-up key and saw his precious "Mr. Robot" squeak his last squeak and make that one last trek across the floor.

But today would be different, Clyde said to himself, opening the large seven foot crate he had brought with him from his lab in Spokane, Washington. He ran endless tests, countless diagnostic evaluations and even got his masters in engineering with a doctorate in computer science. Using that knowledge, Clyde wanted to try and recapture the feeling of his youth of seeing a robot who would do anything he asked.

Naturally, Clyde's social life suffered as a result of his dedication, but he didn't really like other people to begin with. Always with their "world owes me" attitudes and wanting to be unique but still falling into pre-conditioned categories of living that binds them to mediocrity. Not Clyde. He was _truly_ unique. He was about to create life. To give birth to a new age of robot, far more advanced than anything anyone had ever seen.

Pulling the crate lid from view, he beheld his monolithic mechanical offspring. It stood stoically at a staggering seven-feet and five inches tall. Its torso chassis was painted silver and black with gold trimmings converging into a V-shape design. Its arms and legs were constructed with tube-covered wiring, gears and axles. This allowed it to bend and stretch like a silver and gold painted human being. Its neck was a plastic tube along with hydraulic springs to tilt the head and allow it to turn a full three hundred and sixty degrees. With its wide shoulders and heavy frame it could've been the world's strongest linebacker.

Inside its cylindrical cone-shaped head was the CPU and command control center for the robot's entire titanium-encased body. Like any other human being, voice commands from its controller would enact programming at the simple speaking of a password. Though activated by remote, the robot would respond to voice commands stored in its memory banks. Inside its chest in a lead-enclosed sphere was a plutonium orb, which provided the monstrous construct with its awesome power. It took Clyde years to get government approval to obtain the material but he finally was able to secure a small piece.

Clyde made sure his freshly-cut crop of silvery white hair was all in place and that he composed himself, not letting his shoulders slouch like they usually would. This was a day for him to be proud. He would unveil his masterpiece to the masses. The world would say its cheers, of course, but he would once again have his Mr. Robot back.

The curtain lifted and flashbulbs flickered like a thousand exploding stars. Clyde instantly blocked the notion of how much retinal damage he would suffer as a result of the cacophony of light bombarding him. The hand that he didn't use to block the lights he waved to the crowd with. He shouted obligatory "thank yous" that let himself bask in the glow of the moment.

Reaching the podium, he said, "Thank you, everyone. This is a dream and an honor to be here among the finest scientific minds in the country. Artificial life, once considered the pipe dream of not only noted novelist Isaac Asimov, but Mary Shelley, as well as the ancient king Pygmalion with a little help from Aphrodite. While our brothers in the Far East have made great strides in creating fully functioning robotic life-forms, I bring you that which will undoubtedly raise the bar to a new level."

Clyde pulled a small remote console from inside his jacket pocket. With the press of a button, a low humming sound emanated behind the curtain. The humming sound was followed by a heavy clunk. Such noises accompanied the hulking mechanical figure as it caused the curtain to bow forward underneath its gigantic frame. Gasps of amazement and approval rose quickly from the crowd. Murmurs were hidden and stifled by the majority of those who marveled at the mobile metal giant.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Clyde said with his hands outstretched, "I introduce to you, Mr. Atom. Adaptive Task Operations Machine. Say Hello."

"Hello. It is a pleasure to meet you all," said the machine in an automated, stunted tone. It took a slight bow with its right hand at its lower stomach. More "oohs" and "aahs" floated from the crowd.

Clyde held out his hand and said, "Mr. Atom. Tell our esteemed guests all about you."

"Adaptive Task Operations Machine comes fully capable to perform tasks around the house like cleaning, dusting, washing the family dog or car. Adaptive Task Operations Machine is equipped with a built in GPS program and wireless internet access card which is accessible to towers anywhere on the planet. Adaptive Task Operations Machine also is programmed to provide security from intruders on the premises---"

Clyde held out his hand, signaling Mr. Atom to stop. He said, "It's quite simple. Mr. Atom will stand at the door, ready to decide if the person entering your home is a guest or an intruder. In its "guest" programming, he serves as the ultimate butler. As an intruder, well, allow me to demonstrate with this…" Clyde walked behind the curtain and pulled out a TV with a DVD player on the bottom.

"This is attached to the monitors on either side of the stage for everyone to enjoy," he said as he pushed play.

On the monitors, Mr. Atom stood in the empty Jefferson Coliseum parking lot at night. A beautifully crafted 1969 Oldsmobile was in front of the towering robot. Clyde's voice was heard from the camera saying, "Mr. Atom, security measure Gamma." Within the same instant, it drove its titanium fists straight through the hood of the car. With hydraulic hissing and metal groaning, it picked up the car as if it were a Tonka toy. Mr. Atom then spread its arms, obliterating the front end of the car down the middle. Metal, shrapnel and fluids rained down upon its chassis. With a toss, the destroyed Oldsmobile soared through the air, landing on the other side of the parking lot.

Clyde shut off the DVD feed, saying, "The security protocols involve a tactical program for dealing with more than one attacker or an aerial assault. Basic adaptive fighting skills are also programmed so that it can end the threat quickly and effectively. This is evident in the fact that Mr. Atom knew instinctively to destroy the engine of the car. Wouldn't want to get on his bad side, huh? I'm willing to take a couple of questions."

A heavyset African American woman raised her hand and said, "Are there any military applications vying for your invention, Dr. Frasier?"

Clyde responded, "As a matter of fact, I have been approached by both the Army and the Marines for an infantry division. I have yet to find a manufacturer with the proper contracts, however." Seeing another hand, Dr. Frasier pointed and said, "Yes, you sir."

A young, strapping man in a tweed suit jacket raised his hand and said, "Dr. Frasier, such a breakthrough in the field of robotics is alarming to say the least. Are you sure that Mr. Atom is under your complete control?"

A chill ran down his spine upon hearing the question. Clyde knew that Frankenstein reference would come back to haunt him. It was a perfectly natural reaction to a creation far more powerful than anything like it on earth. Could it be controlled? Tamed? Domesticated? In Dr. Frasier's mind, the scientists and colleagues in front of him began to take the form of torch and pitchfork wielding villagers.

Dr. Frasier adjusted his tie and said, "I have provided Mr. Atom with certain failsafe programs should anything happen. Plus it takes a voice command and a key code to authorize the security program's activation. I have a satellite computer program in progress that will shut down any model that loses control. I know it sounds cliché but there really is nothing that can go wrong."

* * *

Mary paced the waiting room of the hospital, waiting for C.C. and Marilyn to come back from the talking to the investigators about Billy's mysterious disappearance last night. The bed was charred beyond repair and her little brother was nowhere to be found. "There's no way he could've gotten out of those restraints." 

"Hey Mary," a young but sweet voice said to Mary, startling her. She turned around to find a sixteen year old boy, light brown skin and short black hair. What caught her attention were his beautiful brown eyes. But she shook herself from the stare as he said, "How you been?"

Shaking his hand, Mary let out a slight smile and said, "I'm fine."

Freddie looked her up and down and said with a smirk, "You got that right."

"That's close enough Grabby McGroper," Mary said with an upturned face.

Freddie laughed, and sat in one of the waiting room chairs, his left leg crossing over his right. "You still mad at me for that?"

"You mean am I mad at you for hitting on me last Christmas and grabbing my ass when I told you no five times in five different languages? Yes."

"I told you I was sorry, Mary," the young man said in a high tone and a shrug, "I saw those looks you were flashing at me."

"For the last time, I wasn't flashing looks at you. I got something in---Why are we even having this talk? What are you doing here?"

Freddie leaned his head back against the wall and replied, "I called Billy's cell and then the house. Today, I heard at school that he was hospitalized because he wigged out in Principal Tyson's office after beating up Goliath in the lunch room. I gotta tell you, when I first heard that, I couldn't believe it."

"_You_ couldn't believe it?" Mary said, sitting a couple of seats to Freddie's right, "I was almost positive he was on something."

Freddie turned his head toward Mary with an eyebrow arched and said, "Billy? Doing drugs?" the young man burst into boisterous laughter. It was Mary's turn to arch her brow at the young teen's guffaws. As he calmed himself down, Freddie said, "Billy 'still believes in the D.A.R.E. program' Batson doing drugs? Ha! No way would he ever put that shit in him."

Mary stared blankly ahead and shook her heard, muttering, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Only on the cheek, the ladies get the full service action," he said with a wink and nod.

"You mean the girlies, jailbait," Mary replied with a grimace and shudder.

After a couple of minutes of an uncomfortable silence and leering, unreturned looks. Mary finally saw another human being. A lovely young blonde walked into the waiting room holding a clipboard. Her white lab coat reached past her knees but her form fitting dark blue denim pants, loafers and red blouse held Freddie's instant attention.

"Hello, I'm here to talk to a C.C. and Marilyn Batson about their son, Billy?" she said with the voice of an angel.

Mary thrust her arm backward, symbolically telling Freddie "down, boy" as she stood up. Holding out her hand, she commented, "I'm Mary Batson, Billy's older sister. My parents are still talking with the detectives at my brother's room."

"I'm Dr. Sivana. Beautia Sivana. Yes, I'm related to Thaddeus Bodog Sivana, yes I'm aware of his appearance in contrast to mine and no I don't want to discuss it.

Mary couldn't really argue with such a thorough statement and simply said, "Alright. Can you help Billy, Dr. Sivana?"

"Well, if what I've read is true, hallucinations, violence, erratic behavior, I believe I can help him. I've been seeing it more and more with some other kids Billy's age. It might be a psychological pandemic but I still need to examine him personally to make a proper and accurate diagnosis."

Freddie stood up and said, "You said other kids have been acting out like Billy was?"

Beautia nodded and said, "Yes. Dozens over the past several months have been exhibiting similar strange behavioral patterns. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's probably nothing, but some kids at my school keep talking about the world getting cleansed by something named Zab-Ak or Sabbath or something…"

"Sabbac?" said the doctor.

Freddie nodded, putting his hand up to his chin. "Yeah, that's the name. Sabbac. You heard the name?"

Her brows jumped up as did her tone, "Heard it? I've been told by one kid that I'll be his personal sex slave when Sabbac 'ascends to power'. Needless to say I gave him a hefty medication order."

Freddie said, "Those same kids have been missing school, though, too. I think it might be some kind of cult thing or something."

A pager chimed from Dr. Beautia Sivana's belt. Turning toward Mary, she handed her a business card and said, "I have another patient to look to, but please give your parents this number. I can be reached day or night and let them know that I would like to go over this situation with them in more detail."

Mary nodded, exchanged pleasantries with Dr. Sivana and watched her leave the waiting room. Freddie leaned forward trying to watch her buttocks while Mary groaned at him. "Damned boys; never changes with you males, does it?"

Freddie shrugged, "What? What is that all about? A guy can't appreciate a beautiful female form without being called on it?"

Mary tossed an auto magazine at him and said, "There, get your eyeful, pig."

_

* * *

_

The voice of Billy echoed in the head of Shazam's champion like a shout traveling through the inner depths of a cavern. Captain Marvel or "Cap" as Billy kept calling him, stood in the middle of a car baler in a desolate scrap yard. Night had fallen and the scrap yard was devoid of all other life except for the guard dogs that broke their teeth chewing on Captain Marvel's arms and legs. The powerful adult clad in red and gold held out his hands and pressed against the closing baler roof. "Okay," grunted the god-powered Captain Marvel, "Let's get physical."

_Don't ever say that again._

Ignoring the young teen's voice in his mind, Captain Marvel pushed hard against the hydraulic powered cover. He felt slight tension in his elbows and biceps. The champion in red held his arms out exerting tremendous force, keeping the walls at bay. Gears popped loose and metal groaned as it continued to apply tons of pressure against the superhuman guest.

The metal roof which Captain Marvel pressed his hands against began to buckle under the resistance. His palms began sinking into the walls, causing hand-sized divots that no one would be able to buff out.

_Okay we get it. You're stronger than a car baler. Can we go now?  
_

"Go where?" Cap said, not even breaking a sweat, "I'm having fun here. And besides, it's not like you have anything better to do."

_What about my life? _

"What about it? From what your memories have told me, it wasn't that remarkable. Your parents weren't always there for you. You got picked on by your sister; you got picked on by bullies at school…"

_Now I'm getting picked on by a red and gold nimrod._

The baler finally hissed its last hydraulic gasp as it shut down under the pressure applied by Captain Marvel. With a jump that arced at thirty feet in the air, Shazam's champion landed outside the now wrecked machine. "I think I might've floated for a little bit there."

_Yeah, you did. That's Mercury's power of flight and speed._

"A brilliant deduction, Watson."

_Look, you've had your fun. I need you to change back! Let me be me again!_

Billy's pleas would fall on deaf ears. Captain Marvel crouched down and leapt into the air. The wind bristled through his hair and flowing white cape, the divine power flowing through his legs propelled him forward, faster than cars were driving on the highway one hundred feet beneath him.

He began to feel gravity pull him back down. The champion struggled by concentrating his will toward flying. Then he tried to flap his arms. Neither yielded results as he found himself crashing into the pavement below. Though he didn't feel any pain from the impact, he grunted and slapped his palm on the road, causing a minor shockwave. He heard tires skidding toward the crater his body created on impact.

Whipping his head around, Captain Marvel saw a Mack truck careening toward him. With a hop, he cleared the massive vehicle and its payload. Landing on his feet, Captain Marvel muttered to himself, "Do you even imagine what this is like, kid?" With another crouch and jump, the red and gold champion of Shazam soared through the air. He continued by saying, "Your body will never experience the kind of power surging through you like it does mine. Plus, we're given a mission by the Wizard, remember?"

_What wizard?_

"You know damn well which one."

_Yeah that weird old guy with the beard and hair, kind of like a stunt double for Ian McKellen._

"Look, kid. I know what you're doing. You can cut it out; I'm not saying the wizard's name," Captain Marvel said making another landing jump along the highway.

_Which is?_

"You really want me to say it while I'm flying through the air high off the ground like this? Because if you really REALLY want me to…"

_Nevermind._

"No, I can probably learn how to fly and then say his name by mistake."

_And then I'd say it right back and we'd be in a big shouting match and we'd look like a couple of idiots screaming Shazam all the way down. _

Both gasped at the fact that Billy had said the wizard's name. However, no lightning surged, no power transferred. Nothing at all changed except the Captain was once again descending. "Well," he said, "It looks like while I'm out here and you're in there, you really are at my mercy, aren't you?"

_I can make your life miserable too, you know._

"By what, singing folk songs in my head nonstop?"

_Well, I probably could do that. It's not like I get hungry or thirsty or even really need to breathe here. It's actually a little liberating when you think about it._

"You wouldn't dare," Captain Marvel grimaced while coming to a wooded area. His eyes turning wide, he felt his body shift between the trees, and no longer losing altitude. He found his body straightening out, becoming parallel with the ground. Captain Marvel's face became alight with excitement until it became planted in a large pine tree. His upper torso and face stuck out of the back end while his feet dangled from the front. The pine tree then toppled over and once again Shazam's champion face-planted on the ground, covered in tree and leaves and his legs kicking in the air.

_Way to go, Big Red Cheese._

From underneath the downed tree, Captain Marvel mumbled out, "Shut it."

* * *

Adam looked up at the bright lights of the bustling metropolis that was New York City from his cab window. He looked over to the bag by his side, which carried his four million dollar check from the Egyptian government and the Claw of Horus. Adjusting the new white long sleeve dress shirt he picked up at that place named Macy's; he admired the wealth of culture and variety it had to offer. It was odd that the head manager of Macy's was some shriveled older looking woman named Alice. In fact, he had not seen a single woman in there named Macy. Perhaps the store "Tiffany's" that the cab driver kept referring to had no one in there named Tiffany at all; or it was perhaps owned by a bloated balding English man named Reginald. 

It mattered not to Adam about the affairs of modern jewelers. They shall serve their purpose as will all mortals under his rule. "The world has not been kind to us Arabs after 9-11" the cab driver had said.

Adam had no idea why that had caught his attention. Then he recalled from Sivana's memories that a tear-or-ist attack had happened in this very city not several years ago. Nearly a dozen armed Arab men hijacked planes and flew them into something called The Twin Towers, murdering thousands. "Yes," Adam said thoughtfully, "I cannot imagine."

"Not many people can," the cab driver retorted, turning onto a dimly lit street, "Part of me wishes I could shout to the rooftops, I am not one of those men! I am not like that! I love America! I love its freedom! Its people! But the other part of me can understand their suspicion. It is not easy and at times, I do fly off the handle. Buy every day I face Mecca and thank Allah I have come here."

Adam didn't know of this "Allah" first hand. And he wasn't about to press the issue. He didn't want to end up in a theological debate and finally with blood on his new shirt. "As well you should. This land is worth defending," he said, trying to think of any way he could to get this cab driver to shut up. Adam didn't want a conversation; he wanted to be taken to his destination, gods dammit.

The cab pulled onto a rural street with run-down brick stores and women with very little clothing standing along the corners. The vehicle screeched to a halt in front of a white and blue wooden house with a fenced in front yard. The mighty ruler let out a heavy sigh, thankful this palaver had ended. Adam grabbed his bag and stepped out of the cab. He handed the driver a roll of twenty dollar bills and said, "Keep the change. But leave this place."

Nodding, the cabbie said, "Not a problem, sir." Not one second after Adam shut the passenger door, did the yellow vehicle's tires screamed and kicked up smoke before vanishing with great speed into the night.

He sneered at the departing vehicle and turned to enter the establishment. Except a scantily clad, horribly pale brunette woman stood right in front of him blocked his path. Adam could smell the years of men using and abusing her body for too many nights of whatever various fornicating situations that were thrust upon her. "If you've got the money, honey, I've got the time."

Adam stared directly into her scratched up face and said, "I have the money, but neither the time, nor the stomach for you, woman. Away with you." Adam walked past the woman, with the lightest of shoves, knocking her on her backside.

Upon reaching the front door, Adam did not care to notice the whore pulling out a cell-phone. "Yo, D, this is Delilah," she said to the man on the other line, "I got a hard-ass who doesn't want to buy what I'm selling. He shoved my ass down. I'm at Hanover St in front of that computer guy's house. I'll point the fool out to you." Clicking her phone shut, she looked inside and said, "D is gonna fuck you up."

* * *

Marilyn and C.C. Batson walked along the now steadily calming hospital hallway toward the waiting room. Because of the power surge last night under which Billy had somehow vanished, nurses, doctors and even janitors were racing around the hospital like mad to return everything to the status quo. C.C. couldn't believe what he had seen in that room. Not only had his son gone missing, but his bed was charred and like someone had set it on fire. As if that wasn't enough, he could've sworn he overheard the doctor telling the nurse to help her cover up the disappearance. He nearly blew his vocal chords yelling at her. 

Marilyn had fainted when she saw that her son disappeared. Upon awakening, she was told that the police were waiting to speak to her and C.C. After verbally slaughtering the doctor for her incompetence, she told the detectives all she could remember, which wasn't much. Marilyn found it odd that the police had asked her if Billy was associating with someone named Ishamel Gregor. She had told them she knew no such man. Instead of elaborating, they left it at that.

C.C. was holding Marilyn up with his arm around her and holding her close to him. He whispered into her ear, "Honey, maybe I should take you home so you can get some---"

"No, C.C.," she grunted, staring a hole directly through him, "I'm not leaving this hospital until I hear something about my son."

"Marilyn, I understand that but waiting here and making ourselves sick with worry isn't going to help us any more than going home and trying to rest," he replied. They rounded a corner, passing by a visiting couple as he said, "Billy is very resourceful, we need to have faith that our son will be alright."

"Can we just not talk right now?" Marilyn said with a high tone, narrowing her eyes and lowering her brow simultaneously. C.C. took the hint and bit his tongue. He had hoped that at least Marilyn would be reasonable and go home, seeing as how there is nothing more they can do for Billy at the hospital.

Rounding the last corner into the waiting room, C.C. and Marilyn's eyes collectively widened. They saw their twenty-four year old daughter twisting sixteen-year old Freddie Freeman's arm counterclockwise. Mary stood tall holding Freddie's palm, hearing him wince and grunt with each light twist of his arm.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Marilyn shouted, forcing Mary to relinquish her grip.

Freddie quickly scooted away from the woman who had nearly twisted his wrist right off his arm. "She started it!" he said, pointing with his unhurt hand.

C.C.'s eyebrow arched and he said, "What are you, 4?"

Mary said, "I was waiting patiently for you guys to get back. I was just pacing when he reached up from his seat and grabbed my ass!"

"Oh come on! I was trying to get your attention because I wanted to ask you how your folks were doing!" Freddie shouted in his defense.

Mary started toward Freddie "That should've been the first question out of your mouth when you got here!"

"STOP IT!" Marilyn screamed, sending a chill down the spine of everyone within earshot, "My son is missing and you two are fighting! What is the matter with you two!?"

C.C. looked over to Freddie, who was getting to his feet slowly. "Freddie, call your mom, tell her to come and pick you up. Mary, we're going home. We'll call the school tomorrow so you can start your internship."

Marilyn pulled away from C.C., saying, "I'm not leaving here until I know what happened to my son!"

The frustrated husband looked pleadingly and said, "Marilyn, please. You need your rest; we're not helping anyone by staying here."

"Clarence Charles Batson, you can go home if you want to, but I'm not leaving," Marilyn said with a stern voice.

C.C. stepped toward her and returned her stern look with soft eyes and tears welling up behind them. "Marilyn, I am not leaving you. But we can't stay here. I left my cell phone and our home phone number with the police. There is nothing more we can do here except torture ourselves with worry."

Marilyn looked down and let out a sob. She put her arms around the man she loved and buried her crying in his chest. She knew C.C. was right. She just didn't want to leave in case Billy was found in the hospital somewhere. That was the kind of thinking she would've tormented herself with if she had stayed. C.C. looked to Freddie and said, "Go on home, Freddie. We'll call you if we hear anything about Billy, alright?"

"Yes sir," the teen replied. He looked over to Mary and then cast his gaze downward, saying, "Sorry, Mary."

Mary looked away and said, "I'm sorry for twisting your arm and for being a bitch to you."

"No, no, I deserved it. I should know better how to be a gentleman," he said, shaking his head.

Mary let out a half-smile and said, "Yeah you should."

The Batsons and Freddie all left the waiting room together, hoping to hear from their loved one very soon. C.C. kept his arm around his wife, providing her with his support. Freddie and Mary kept an amicable distance between each other.

* * *

The convention couldn't have gone better, Clyde thought to himself. He wished he had a picture to capture the looks on the crowd's faces when they saw Mr. Atom rip apart the Oldsmobile and toss it like a discarded beer can. It was truly priceless. Some had expressed concerns about the lead-encased plutonium being the primary power source. Clyde had assured them that he was working on creating a solar battery and properly disposing of the plutonium once he returned to the lab. 

But the time to celebrate had passed and now he had to make the long arduous trek to Metropolis. There was another science convention there with noted specialists from STAR labs, Kord industries and even Waynetech Enterprises from Gotham scheduled to appear. Clyde wanted to prepare Mr. Atom for the flight.

Clyde put his arms around his creation, hugging it. "I can't wait until you become mass-produced. People will be able to enjoy the pleasure that I have all this time. I was selfish to keep you locked in my shack, hidden away to do my bidding. I should share you with the world. Maybe people will like me now if I can give them a domestic wonder such as you. I won't ever have to pay for sex again. Or at least pay money to a woman on a street corner like it was some kind of coital drive-thru.

"You will change everything. You are meant for great things, my friend. Man's new best friend. His maid, his servant, his caregiver, and his protector, are all in one titanium-wrapped package. I imagine I'd be putting a lot of poor folks out of business, like police, hospice workers and actual maids and butlers, but such is the price to pay for progress, I suppose."

With his remote, he activated the robot, pointing to the upstanding seven foot crate he uncovered it from. "Back in the box, Mr. Atom. You have to get your rest for when we appear in Metropolis," Clyde said with hint of a giggle in his voice.

The large mechanical construct moved smoothly toward the crate until a popping sound was heard in the brain center. "What's wrong?" the doctor said, looking puzzled upon hearing the noise. The robot had frozen in mid-step before turning to face its creator. "Oh no, the damn control chip must've shorted. I'll have to shut him down. Mr. Atom Automatic shut down, Confirmation Code 6613—urk!"

The large robotic monster Clyde had built with his own hands had clutched the doctor's throat in its own. Steel fingers with an unforgiving vice grip tightened, crushing his windpipe. With one hand, the robot lifted the doctor's body and hurled him head first towards a brick wall, sending him screaming to a blood splattered death.

Focusing its attention on the crate it was to be shipped in, Mr. Atom picked up the large box and sent it he hurtling into the night, not caring where it ended up. The cone-headed seven foot metallic monster lifted Clyde's moving truck above its head and jumped into the air. A hard throw downward smashed the vehicle against the pavement while Mr. Atom dropped down with its feet outstretched. Its landing tore through the rear bed of the truck as it heard a whooshing sound overhead. It stopped its motion to hear someone outside saying, "Good God…What the hell happened here?"

* * *

Captain Marvel stretched his arms through the downed tree he was stuck inside. Wood splintered everywhere as he fell to the ground. Getting up quickly and brushing off his cape and costume, he said, "I meant to do that." 

_Here's your champion of justice, ladies and gentlemen, Captain Breaky Smashington. _

"Didn't I tell you to shut it?" the champion said, "I think I got the hang of this flying thing." He aimed his arms upward and stood up straight. For a minute, nothing happened. He imagined that he looked rather stupid but he had no other idea on how to fly. With his arm still raised, Captain Marvel grunted his frustration.

"If you make any 'Sure' jokes, I will forget the wizard's name right here and now. You hear me, kid?"

_Relax. I can help you. _

"From in there? How are you gonna do that, Kreskin?" he said letting his arms fall to his sides.

_Wisdom of Solomon on line one. I'm not just the voice inside your head; I'm the voice of Solomon's wisdom. Just picture yourself weightless. Completely, totally and utterly unaffected by gravity._

Closing his eyes, Captain Marvel took in slow, deep breaths and calmed himself down. He saw himself still in the forest. However, it began to move. His legs weren't carrying him anywhere and he didn't jump. Shazam's champion kept envisioning that he was hovering at least twenty feet in the air

_Gravity has no command on you. You command gravity. You come down when you want to come down. _

Captain Marvel opened his eyes to see the mental image matching the actual sight perfectly. He was floating twenty feet above the ground.

_Don't get too excited, that's how you face-planted last time._

"Don't remind me," he said, putting one arm out in front of him.

_Now, let your mind move you forward. Focus. Don't let the view from up here distract you. Once you've got it down pat, then you can sight-see. _

"Alright," replied Captain Marvel, concentrating his focus to move forward. His outstretched hand tightened into a fist as he felt himself moving forward. His body evened out horizontally as he moved slowly forward. He weaved between trees and then guided himself upward, rising above the trees. Captain Marvel stretched his arms to either side like a six-foot red and gold airplane.

"This is awesome!" said the caped hero as he soared over the forest, letting the wind pass through his hair. He noticed he was coming up on downtown Fawcett City. "Hey, Billy; do you think I should do a fly over of the town? I mean, if I'm gonna be its protector, I should know its streets like the back of my hand."

_You already do know them because I know them, Cap._

Captain Marvel replied, "Oh, right, heh. Sorry. I keep forgetting." Suddenly, a loud crashing noise pierced the night sky, alerting him toward the Fawcett City Coliseum. He turned his body, angling it to the left, and then began to set down in front of a downed moving truck. Upon landing, he saw that someone's body was in pieces against the wall of the rear entrance to the building. Blood was splattered everywhere. He looked over to the truck, seeing the twisted metal and broken glass littering the immediate vicinity.

"Good God…What the hell happened here?" Captain Marvel said, seeing the devastation in the empty Coliseum parking lot.

A metallic fist punched through the roof of the truck cab. Walking through it like wet tissue paper was a seven-foot shining metal monstrosity. The lights of the parking lot gleamed off its titanium body. Captain Marvel steadied himself as it towered in front of him.

_Think you can take him?_

"Please," Captain Marvel whispered, throwing a right fist "Piece of…" The robot caught Captain Marvel's punch in his powerful hand and absorbed the force behind it. He stared in shock and said, "Shit." Mr. Atom drove its right fist hard into Captain Marvel's sternum. The force propelled him through the brick wall and into the loading bay. As he skidded to a halt on the floor, the champion of Shazam rolled over coughing, fighting to catch his breath, he got to his feet in time to see the mechanical man walk through the opening, kicking away brick fragments.

"Alright, that kind of hurt a little. So how about you---" Mr. Atom interrupted the hero's sentence with a devastating right cross, followed by a left uppercut to the stomach. The robot brought its knee up but the champion blocked and shoved the metal monster into the loading bay shutter, tearing it off its hinges.

"Guess someone doesn't believe in talking things out."

_Fight now, banter later!_

Turning his back on the loading dock and the robot emerging from the metal shudder remains, Captain Marvel said, "Hey, it's not your face getting pummeled here!"

_Would you shut up and---_

Distracted by the argument in his mind, Captain Marvel never noticed a double-axe handle blow swinging into his back. The force jettisoned him through the air and the wall into the open arena. Seats exploded from their moors when the hero crashed into the 60,000 seat capacity arena. Captain Marvel straightened himself out and stopped his descent.

He turned around to see the seven-foot monster of metal leaping into the air. The red and gold champion raised himself up and drove an axe-handle smash of his own into its cone-shaped head. It slammed into the hard concrete floor with tremendous force. To finish it off, Captain Marvel aimed his flying downward, with his fists directed squarely at Mr. Atom.

The impact of the hero colliding with the robot shook the arena. It echoed through the halls and caused a minor tremor in the immediate area. Captain Marvel found his fists were buried inside Mr. Atom. Pulling his hands out, he saw a multi-colored spaghetti bowl of wires and lights. Inside it was a tightly enclosed lead sphere. He almost laughed at the thought of calling it a meatball in a plate of spaghetti.

A titanium foot slammed itself between Captain Marvel's legs, connecting with his groin. All the air left the champion's lungs and he toppled helpless to the ground, holding his groin. "Oh…" he grunted, "You never said robots fought dirty…"

_Normally they don't unless they're programmed to. They aren't supposed to do anything they aren't programmed to. This kind of fighting was built into him. I'm guessing he went haywire. _

"Who are you talking to?" the robot said with its chest ripped open.

Captain Marvel scooted away from the robot, trying to regain his footing until he felt a kick crash into his stomach, propelling him like a football into the nosebleed section of the coliseum. Mr. Atom ran out of the auditorium, leaving behind his fallen opponent. When the hero got to his feet, his foe was nowhere to be found. He raced down the stairs and sped out the door like a blur.

He exited the loading bay, looking toward the remains of Mr. Atom's creator. Running toward the body, he began to examine the body for identification. "Clyde Frasier" he said upon seeing the doctor's driver's license. The steady rising screams of police sirens let Captain Marvel know it was his cue to flee. With a mighty leap, the red and gold champion of Shazam took the night sky, flying away like a six-foot rocket.

_Okay, so we're dealing with an artificially intelligent robot who murdered his creator. That is so Asimov._

"What?"

"_I robot" by Isaac Asimov. It was made into a movie with Will Smith. It was about a robot who was accused of murdering his creator and somehow it all tied into an artificial intelligence that wanted to destroy mankind by creating a master race of robotic life forms. _

"Okay, Mr. Knows so much, where is it?"

_When humans get hurt they go to the hospital. So if you just got your chest plate torn open, where would you go to get a new one? _

Captain Marvel let a sly half-smile creep out, knowing the answer. He stretched his arms forward and soared toward the scrap yard he had left not a half hour ago.

* * *

Delilah stood outside the house that Adam entered, waiting for her pimp D to arrive. A 2005 black Chevy Impala barreled down the street and skidded to a halt right next to her. The passenger's side window lowered and a large, heavy set white man wearing a black business suit said, "Get in." She entered the car without a second to waste. 

"D," she began to say but received a slap to her face.

"Shut up! You got me coming down here to handle your business. Didn't you tell me you could take care of yourself if some fool decided to get stupid with you?"

"Yes, D," she said, looking downward on the dashboard.

"Then why am I wasting my time about to blast a guy who could've given me some much needed business?"

"Because the way he shrugged me off; it was like I was a child to him, D. I've had body builders, athletes and all kinds of strong guys toss me around. But this guy's strength is scary, D."

"Yeah well, we're gonna see how strong he is when I bust out the big bitch," he said, pointing to a double barrel shotgun in the backseat.

Delilah knew D would handle the unruly would-be customer. However, there was something strange about him. She couldn't quite put his finger on it. He carried himself like a person of royalty, like he was above everything and everyone. But he wouldn't be above getting blown away by the big bitch. Everyone D shot with it was dead instantly.

"There he is," Delilah said, seeing Adam emerge from the house, carrying his bag over his shoulder. She had no idea why a sophisticated looking guy like him would pay a visit to a known hacker. D and Delilah kept their eyes on Adam as he walked away from the Impala. They followed him slowly for a block before he turned a corner into a narrow dead end alley.

"I got this fool," D said, pulling the vehicle into the alley to block Adam from escaping.

Adam exited the Hak-er's abode and was pleased with his work. Without proper identification, there would be no way for him to open a checking account in the bank and deposit his four million dollar check. A driver's license, fabricated social security card and Birth certificate were now inside his bad along with the Claw of Horus. The Hak-er did warn him that the bank might watch him very closely since he'd be depositing such a vast amount of money. But Adam simply smiled and walked out through the front door. Adam would take care of everything.

He saw a black Chevy Impala parked in front. He hid a sneer noticing the absence of that filthy whore trying to sell her body to him. He had time to kill, so he decided to play their pathetic game. Walking from the porch to the street, he feigned ignorance of their presence and kept moving. For a block he knew they were stalking him in their car, waiting for the right time to pounce.

Adam turned into a narrow alley with a dead end, intent on springing the trap on purpose. He heard the car screech to a stop. Turning around, he saw a bulbous, bulky man holding a shotgun walking around the car, which blocked an escape by foot. The whore got out of the passenger seat. She seemed a little more tentative than before. It caught Adam's eye the way she looked at him. It wasn't fear. It was wonder.

"Yo, man," the heavy set man said, pointing his shotgun right at Adam. "You touched my bitch without paying, homey."

"My name is not homey," the former ruler replied.

"I don't give a damn what your name is, player. No one touches my hoes without providing me some financial compensation. You feel me?" The stylishly dressed pimp said, cocking his weapon.

Adam laughed, "Away with you, miscreant. I grow tired of this game."

"Game?" D said, raising the shotgun to his shoulder and taking aim, "This is a game to you, homey? I'm dead serious, fool. Don't make me blaze the big bitch and scatter your ass all over this alley."

Faster than the pimp could blink, Adam reached forward and yanked the weapon away from D, tossing it aside. With the same hand, he grabbed him by the collar and threw him high into the air. Adam casually walked away from the alley, hearing the pimp scream all the way to an explosion of blood, bowels and bones on the pavement. Adam chuckled and said, "Now you're dead. Serious."

"Jesus Christ," Delilah whispered, horror painted across her face as Adam approached her. She pulled out a switchblade knife and went to stab him with it. He blocked her attack and with a light squeeze, forced her to relinquish her weapon. She raised a kick into Adam's crotch, but only succeeded in hurting her own foot. She grabbed Adam's wrist and tried to flip him over her shoulder, but he landed on his feet and twisted her arm behind her back.

Delilah continued to struggle, screaming for help when Adam covered her mouth and said, "Silence, harlot. I have destroyed he who owned you, which in essence, makes me your new master. I'm going to remove my hand. If you scream, I'll remove your head."

After Adam uncovered Delilah's mouth, she said, "You're no better than D. A pimp is a pimp."

Adam pulled up on her twisted arm, causing her to wince, "My aspirations are far more ambitious than your former employer's. I plan to own this world."

"So does everyone, doesn't mean it'll happen no matter how many fat pimps you toss in the air."

Adam had to smile with that comment. She was staring a being if power she cannot even fathom and she was mocking him. However, an idea arose in his mind, the smile grew wider and he said, "I can bring you out of the streets. You will have wealth beyond your wildest dreams and you will never have to sell your body for any man ever again."

"D promised the same things, and look where I am," she said looking downward.

"And look where D is," he replied, nodding to the splattered carcass of her former employer. "I have power like you could not even begin to imagine. But like any good

Delilah stopped struggling against Adam's vastly superior might and was silent for a minute. Finally she said, "What's the catch?"

Adam turned her to face him. He looked into her eyes and said, "You swear your allegiance to me. You will be under my protection. In return, you will perform whatever I ask of you."

Delilah froze, gazing into Adam's eyes. She felt a tremendous power and regality behind them. "Yes. I swear."

"Good," Adam said with a smile, "Now, fetch the keys from D's pocket and drive me to a Hill-ton hotel."

"Yes, uh," she paused, forgetting in all the commotion to ask about his name, "Sir? What is your name?"

"My name is Adamtutamen-Teth. You may call me master or sir."

"I'm Delilah," she said, walking backwards towards the corpse of her former employer. She pulled a handkerchief out of her purse and walked through D's bloody remains. She knelt down quickly and rummaged through D's pockets and found his car keys, along with his wallet. She took out a large wad of hundred dollar bills from the wallet and said, "Consider it my severance, you fat son of a bitch."

Delilah stepped quickly from the crimson covered crime scene and saw Adam still standing at the backseat door. She sighed, saying, "Sorry, sir." Delilah opened the door for her new boss, letting him sit down inside. After shutting the door, she walked around and got into the driver's seat.

As the car pulled away from the scene, Adam saw a small duffel bag on the floorboard. Opening it up, he noticed small plastic bags with some kind of plant remnants inside. Using Dr. Sivana's memories, he identified it as Cannabis, or "weed." apparently the good doctor had past experience with this substance in his youth. Adam found such things like drugs or hallucinogens distasteful. But considering the next phase of his plan, it would no doubt serve him well; as would Delilah.

* * *

Mr. Atom ran from the Coliseum parking lot and through the forest along the highway to keep from being spotted. Through its security protocol's tactical programming it calculated that Captain Marvel's arrival was from the air. It was a high probability that he would engage Mt. Atom in an aerial pursuit. It only made sense to make its escape by foot through the forest to provide ground cover 

The large, lumbering metal monster swerved in between trees so as not to attract attention by knocking down its cover. It calculated from its built-in GPS system that a scrap yard would be stationed several miles from the Coliseum. Hearing the same whooshing sound overhead, it paused. The red and gold threat that ripped its chest plate was heading to the scrap yard as well to lie in wait for Mr. Atom.

Why are these humans trying to destroy it? The creator tried to destroy it, now this stranger with tremendous strength. It is impossible for a human to be as strong as the red and gold threat, or to fly with the ease of a plane or bird. Authorities would certainly be aware of the damage it and the threat had made. But with its chest compromised, it had no alternative but to seek a new covering for its chassis until a suitable one could be found.

The plutonium core in its chest was paramount to be protected. Should it be damaged or the water inside made to leak, it could seep into the circuitry, causing the wires to spark. One spark landing in the orb could react with the radioactivity, causing a chain reaction explosion sparking a raging plutonium fire. Or the oxidizing of the ore could cause a chain reaction. Though the probability was not very high, it couldn't risk it.

A strategy needed to be formulated for it to get what it needed and to escape the threat. It continued its run toward the scrap yard. The tactical program was beginning to run scenarios to find a way to fulfill its mission. Mr. Atom knew the threat could withstand tremendous amounts of pain, but could it withstand being vaporized by a nuclear explosion?

Mr. Atom calculated that even if the threat could sustain damage from such devastation, does it know that it can? It did hear the target speaking seemingly to no one. Perhaps it was actually talking to someone on a radio frequency that was in town. The tactical program latched onto a scenario that might produce the desired outcome. If it had a face, Mr. Atom would be smiling.

* * *

Captain Marvel landed in the middle of the scrap yard, dust kicking up upon impact. He looked around and found a large magnet attached to a crane as well as mountains upon mountains of crushed, mangled and twisted cars, trucks, and various other vehicles. He leapt onto a mound of cars and lifted up the hollowed out husk of a Volvo and held it over his head. To him, it was like holding a large metallic pillow. 

The idea was simple. First, he would slow down the robot with an oncoming vehicle. Then he would turn on the magnet and tear out the lead meatball, hopefully shutting it down.

For several minutes, he ducked low, so as not to stick out like a sore thumb. A guy holding a car above his head would be kind of hard to miss. He kept his eyes peeled.

_Look, Cap. I really think we need to figure out how we can both have our own lives while sharing this life-force._

"Can we not talk about this right now, Billy?" Captain Marvel whispered, "I'm trying to hide here."

_Maybe you should try thinking instead of talking. _

The hero said, "What difference would it make? The old man has his champion and Fawcett City has its new protector. Everyone wins."

_But C.C. and Marilyn Batson don't have their son. Mary Batson doesn't have her little brother. Freddie Freeman doesn't have his best friend. I don't see what they've won from this. We have the ability to change back and forth. Why can't we be both Billy and Captain Marvel? _

"Because would be too much strain to have to juggle Captain Marvel's life and Billy Batson's life," he replied, "Navigating between school, homework and fighting monsters? Who needs that kind of pressure?"

_It isn't right that your mission of protecting mankind takes precedence over my right to a life! It isn't fair!_

"You want to talk about fair? I was created in the Abyss of limbo. You know what that's like? Imagine being dead but still technically alive and aware. Now imagine being stuck like that for a millennia waiting on some schmuck to channel my existence into so I can exist! And instead of doing normal things like going on dates, getting married and having kids, it's my lot in life to make sure everyone else can have the pleasure! So don't you even begin to lecture ME about what's fair!" Captain Marvel shouted.

"You!" a robotic voice bellowed. Down below was Mr. Atom. Once again, Billy had distracted him from the opponent and gave away his position. Captain Marvel acted fast, hurling the Volvo shell at the robot. It raised its arms and said, "No, Don't!" The body crashed hard into the metal giant, causing a mountain of cars and scrap to fall upon it.

"This is my chance! We'll have this discussion later, kid!" Captain Marvel said, making his way to the magnet. Suddenly an explosion of steel caught his attention. A truck bed slammed into his face, knocking him away from the crane. He collapsed to the ground hard, covered in dust. The mount of cars he stood on then was leaning toward him. Mr. Atom was returning the favor, causing tons of steel and metal to come crashing down upon Captain Marvel.

As the cacophony of screaming vehicles and metal collided with the fallen hero, he pushed himself to his feet and began ripping through metal to reach the outside. He made it from under the collapsed scrap, only for Mr. Atom's fist to slam into his face. The force propelled him off his feet and into the crane, which was what he hoped would happen. The only problem was there were no keys in the damn crane to operate the magnet! "Dammit!" he shouted, knowing now that this would have to be done the hard way.

He jumped down from the crane and charged Mr. Atom. The robot raised a knee, doubling Captain Marvel over. Raising the same knee, he knocked the hero flat on his back. It then grabbed him by the ankle and slung him like a rag doll through another mound of scrap and into the baler he ruined earlier that night.

_Cap. I have an idea._

"Not now!" he shouted, trying to get to his feet before his foe could reach him.

_Solomon's wisdom is not just limited to just your powers. He's also well versed in fighting techniques. All you have to do is use them. They'll come to you instinctively. The next time full metal asshole come at you, don't waste time thinking. Let your instincts take over. _

"Okay," Captain Marvel replied, "Let's get---"

_Don't. _

"Alright alright," he replied, running back toward the approaching machine. As Mr. Atom threw its right fist, Captain Marvel caught it, wrapped his arm around its shoulder and knelt. Pulling with one arm, he tore Mr. Atom's right arm out of the socket. Mr. Atom shoved Captain Marvel away trying to create distance to form a new strategy.

The hero swung the arm like a baseball bat into the lower half of the exposed chassis, bending it over. With lightning reflexes, he grabbed the other arm and rolled over its back. His momentum flipped both of them onto the ground with its left arm wrapped in his arms and legs. With a mighty tug, he ripped the left arm out at the elbow joint, causing it to spark.

Mr. Atom tried to stand up but could not position itself properly. Getting to his feet, Captain Marvel tossed the arm away casually and said, "Look at you. Big bad robot thought you could get away with murder, huh? Not in my town, pal. Funny we'd be in a scrap yard, huh?"

Putting his foot on what would be Mr. Atom's crotch Captain Marvel grabbed both of the robot's legs and said, "Make a wish." A sharp pull later and Mr. Atom was completely immobilized. He chucked away the legs and knelt beside the mechanical monstrosity. "Now for my next trick," he said, reaching toward the lead sphere.

"Do not remove core!" Mr. Atom said, "If threat removes core, Adaptive Task Operations Machine will cease to exist as well as potentially others. Within the lead core is a piece of plutonium ore. If you rip out the core, the wires will be unplugged and the water will drain, oxidizing the metallic material inside, causing it to induce a series of chain reactions with the lead casing which could cause a meltdown, annihilating everything around us."

Captain Marvel felt time slow down as he snatched the core out of the robot's torso. With a powerful leap using every ounce of strength he had, the hero leapt into the night sky. He could barely hear the sonic boom he left behind him as he flew straight into the sky. With his hands covering the sphere, he kept the water contained in the sphere as best he could. The Speed of Mercury was earning its keep tonight.

Exiting the Earth's atmosphere, the hero's body blazed like a comet until he reached outer space. With no air in space, the plutonium couldn't oxidize. But to be safe, Captain Marvel spun around as fast as he could and then hurled the core with all his strength. It vanished into the sun, dissolving under the intense heat.

Once the danger had passed, both Billy and Captain Marvel were amazed to realize that he wasn't suffering from the freezing vacuum of outer space. He didn't even feel the heat from exiting the planet. The Earth seemed like a floating blue bulb in against a backdrop of stars. Its mere presence seemed to provide a source of light to illuminate the universe.

_It's…beautiful…I wish my family could see the world like this. _

Flying back down to Earth, the hero once more alight due to reentry, Captain Marvel nodded in agreement, saying, "Look, Billy. I'm sorry I haven't been more considerate about you needing to be with your parents. How about we make a deal? Whenever there's an emergency, you call the wizard's name and I'll handle the problem as fast as I can so you can get back to class."

_And after I finish my homework, I'll let you patrol the city at night. So long as you get me back before morning. _

"I think that's a good deal," Captain Marvel replied, "So, what do we tell your parents about where you've been?"

_Uh…I have no clue. I mean how do you explain tossing around a kid three times your size in front of a dozen witnesses, disappearing without a trace from a busy hospital, being transformed into a superhero by a wizard, then facing off against a murderous robot? Plus, I was in restraints and I might've smelled smoke while I was transforming; probably from Zeus's lightning. _

Upon entering the Fawcett City limits, Captain Marvel set down in front of the Batson home. The car was in the driveway and the lights were off, letting him know that the rest of the family was inside and asleep. "We'll work out the details of our deal later, Billy. Go reunite with your family."

_Thank you, Cap._

"Shazam," the champion whispered. Lightning enveloped his body instantaneously and then surged into the area over the heart. As the lightning disappeared, Captain Marvel was replaced by Billy Batson, who was still in his hospital gown. As he reached for the doorbell, he felt a hand placed over his mouth and the smell of chloroform. Before he could struggle or say the magic word, Billy fainted into the arms of a man in a dark red robe.

_Billy?! What's happening! Billy! BILLY!_

Captain Marvel's cries would not help him. The mysterious figure dragged the limp body away from the front porch, across the lawn and into a waiting black van. As they drove off, the abductor, Ishamel Gregor motioned to the driver and said, "Let's go. We have another child to add to the pyre. The eclipse is tomorrow, and the coming of our master will be upon us. The age of man will end; the age of Sabbac will begin."

To be continued…


	5. Strength

Ultimate Shazam: Strength

Captain Marvel, The Batson family, Dr. Sivana, Sterling Morris, Black Adam, and Sabbac, are all properties of DC Comics.

It was the worst night C.C. Batson had ever experienced. His wife, Marilyn, cried herself to sleep. As she kept muttering the name of their son Billy and weeping uncontrollably, he just couldn't close his eyes to rest. He watched over the love of his life and tried to concentrate on the next few months ahead. He would be teaching Archaeology during the winter and spring semester at Fawcett University. With Dr. Sivana missing/presumed dead and the payment on the Khandaq find not forthcoming, he had to go back to teaching to pay the bills.

Marilyn, distraught by Billy's disappearance, refused to teach young adults. She would've been constantly reminded of what she had lost. She understood that C.C. had to go back to work in order to maintain the household, or at least she would understand in time.

C.C. and Marilyn's daughter Mary came out from the bathroom with a towel around her beautifully sculpted young body. Another towel adorned her head, wrapping her long brown locks in a cocoon of heat and freshness. She knocked on the open door to her parents' darkened room and said, "Dad?"

The weary father looked up, his black hair tattered and strewn about. "Shhh," he said, turning to his wife, "she needs her rest. We'll be fine. Go to work."

Mary began to rebut, "I called the school and they said they're okay with me taking some time off to help you and mom through this."

C.C. stood up from the bed, his denim pants covering himself as he stared down his daughter from the other side of the room. "We'll be fine. I appreciate the concern but you need this job."

"I need to be here with you and mom while this is happening," Mary replied, leaning against the wall.

C.C. sat back down on the bed and put a hand to his sleeping wife's shoulder. He said, "She has me and you'll be back in the afternoon after school. Besides, the rest of the family will be calling pretty much throughout the day to check on us. I'll make sure she's taken care of."

"Did you get any sleep?" Mary said, arching her brow.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" her father replied sharply. His eyes never left Marilyn, who slept soundly with dried trails of tears on her face. C.C. watched his daughter leave the room as he let out a yawn. He then slapped himself to his senses. He shouldn't be yawning at a time like this. He needed to be strong for the woman he loved. He needed to be her rock, a foundation to support her through this tragedy.

A single tear trailed down his cheek. C.C. wiped it away quickly and steeled his emotions. His face trembled from trying not to break down as he stared as his wife's sleeping form and thought of his missing son. He whispered, "It's going to be okay."

Over and over he repeated it, stroking her shoulder tenderly and his eyes flickering between conscious and unconscious. "It's going to be okay."

"It's going to be okay."

"It's going to be okay."

* * *

Billy Batson opened his eyes slowly, seeing the world sideways. Tilting his head upward, he saw dim beams of sunlight pouring in through holes in the four metallic walls. The width and length of the kennel was four feet by four feet and a four foot ceiling. He didn't have a lot of room to move. A metal covering adorned the front door of what appeared to be a kennel cage for a greyhound. Trying to get to his feet, he bumped his head on the ceiling and fell to a squat on the floor. He was relieved to see that he was still wearing the hospital gown from last night, not that it made a positive difference in the least. 

Looking through the holes in the side of the narrow kennel, Billy tried to get an idea of where he was. Suddenly, a set of bared dog teeth and a loud bark sent him screaming back against the far wall. More teeth and barking waited for him on the other side.

A distorted voice called out, "_Ferse! Weg mit Ihnen!"_ The dogs became silent and walked away. "Sorry about that, Billy. I'm afraid I neglected to feed them before I picked you up. They get…antsy."

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" the young man said getting to his knees and looking around for where the voice came from.

"Trying to find me? Yes, the police have been trying the very same thing. They never will, though. To answer your first question, my name is Ishamel Gregor, prophet of Almighty Sabbac. The answer to your second, I'm afraid will have to go unrevealed. You gave us all quite a scare when you disappeared from the hospital. I must admit while waiting for you in the backyard of your home, I never imagined you'd come in from the front door. You were a lot harder to track down than the others. I was about to give up until I heard your feet hit the porch. I knew fate was on my side. Still don't know what that light was when I turned the corner, but once I saw you reaching for the doorbell, I had to act fast."

Billy's heart raced even though he had dodged a bullet. He had no idea anyone was watching, let alone waiting to kidnap him. Apparently he wasn't the first person since this nut-job alluded to there being "others." He had to get out somehow.

_You can't._

Billy was delighted at first to hear the Captain's voice in his head. However, his words threw the young man right back into a grim, sweltering and metallic reality surrounded by guard dogs. "I have to get out of here," he said.

"Oh, by all means, do try. My dogs are very well trained, as you can tell. They are to attack anything that attempts to leave their kennel. Once that door opens and you poke one piece of your body out, they will shear it off at the joints. But I must warn you. Should you be successful in out-witting my pets, the floor you are kneeling on is pressure sensitive. I had you weighed before you were put in here. One hundred eighty-five pounds at sixteen years old; someone's been cutting carbs, haven't they?

"The point is that if you leave your kennel, the lack of pressure on the floor will trigger simultaneous and rather fatal explosions in every single kennel here. Now, I can't say the same for everyone else, but you strike me as the kind of young man who would take it very badly if you caused other people's deaths, right?"

_That's why you can't escape. Not yet at least._

Billy sat calmly, responding with silence and looks that could kill. "Good boy," cackled the mysterious voice. "Relax, Billy. You'll be set free soon. You'll all be set free. Have a nice day. All glory to Sabbac."

"Son of a bitch!" Billy said, banging his hand against the metallic wall of his kennel. He couldn't escape. If the dogs didn't get him, the bombs would get everyone else. Transforming was out of the question. Even if the extra weight didn't trigger the explosions, Captain Marvel bursting out of the kennel surely would. He wasn't sure if even the Speed of Mercury could save every single person in time because Billy had no idea how many others there were to rescue.

"Great," he said, leaning against the far wall opposite the front door. Letting out a hefty sigh, Billy commented, "Sabbac…that name sounds familiar."

_It shouldn't. Not to you._

"Some kids were talking about how the world would be purified by the fires of Sabbac. That he'd grant every wish they ever had," he replied, "and some guy named Brother Ishamel."

_Sabbac is a foul, powerful demon. You heard me right, a demon. He's a "hailing from the pits of Hell breathing fire and brimstone, and sworn enemy of all that is good" demon. He was one of Lucifer's lieutenants when he marched against God. Ever since "The Fall", he's wanted to break through into the world of Man and claim it for his own, beating his boss to the punch. He can't escape from Hell into man's world unless there's an eclipse, and from what I heard while you were unconscious, today's Sabbac's coming out party._

"Alright, so how do we stop him?" Billy remarked snidely.

_Well, right now, until we see an opening, we can't. For the ritual to be successful, there have to be five sacrifices all given simultaneously at each tip of a pentagram during a solar eclipse. From what Solomon's telling me, there's no actual rule book on how the sacrifices must be made other than they must all die at the same time. _

From what Billy could see outside, the other containers were about ten feet apart. All of them were the same height and width as his kennel. From his left, he heard a soft grunting and weeping. "Hello?" he said, trying to find out who it was.

"Leave me alone," he barely heard in the distance. The voice sounded female.

"I know this is gonna sound like a stupid question, but are you alright?"

"We're all going to die," she said through audible weeping, "I've been in this damn kennel for weeks sweating through the hot summer days and at night men come and stick cattle prods into our kennels, shocking us awake. But yes, I'm fine."

He lowered his head, sorry that he couldn't have come sooner, or that he didn't save them from such a horrible existence. "I'm Billy Batson."

The girl let out a weeping chuckle and replied, "What difference does that make? We'll never get out of here before they do whatever it is they're going to do to us."

"I was kind of hoping for your name, too. If I'm going to die, I'd at least like to know my company."

After a long pause, the girl spoke up and said, "Abigail. Abigail Sommerly."

_What are you doing, Billy? This is no time to be picking up girls! We need a plan here! _

"Shut up, Marvel…" he said under his breath, "I'm trying to get information."

"What was that? I could barely hear you." She asked with apprehension in her voice.

"Sorry," he replied, "I was remarking about how lovely that name is."

"Look," Abigail said, "You seem like a nice guy but…AAAH!!!!" she screamed. Billy looked outside to find two men in robes standing next to the kennel, pushing sticks through the holes in the kennel. He heard her cry out in pain and sobbing out pleas for them to stop.

"Leave her alone, you bastards!!!" he shouted. They didn't listen. They only laughed and continued their sick game of tormenting Abigail with the cattle prods. Evidently, they enjoyed playing with electricity. Momentarily disregarding Marvel's protests of what will happen if he transforms, Billy took in a breath to say the magic word. He wanted to give them a taste of what magic lightning could do.

Before he could speak, Billy felt a cattle prod jam into his back, causing him to spasm. He dropped to his back and arched upwards, groaning. His exposed stomach was then struck with the electrical stick, making him try to outrun the prodding but the wall only went so far. Jolt after horrific jolt surged into him, causing him to scream out in pain. The young man could barely register the hideous laughter of the men who had just tormented him and Abigail.

Captain Marvel's words rang into his head. _Those creeps stopped you from making a horrible mistake, kid. _Billy grunted and shook uncontrollably, lamenting the voice inside his head. He knew Cap was right, but he couldn't just sit back and let someone suffer.

His thoughts turned to the Wizard. Where was he? Could he help out somehow? Was there a way for him to get in contact with Shazam that Captain Marvel didn't quite know about? Where has he been?

_Apparently the old man has other things to do, like figure out where he'll stay for a base of operations, what to do for food or money or whatever. I mean, he's gotta survive in this era same as me and as Black Adam. _

Billy was hoping to forget that name. Shazam had told him it was his destiny as the host of the champion to face down the wizard's former protégé. If he got out of this alive, he'd still have that to look forward to. He'd always have that to look forward to, he guessed.

_First things first, we need to find a way to escape._

"Well, take your time coming up with your plan. It's not like I'm going anywhere," Billy said, breathing out the pain in his muscles from the cattle prods.

* * *

Adam had watched the sunrise and smiled at the new day dawning, as well as the new days of his future kingdom coming to fruition. He spent the entire night planning his next move. Despite the occasional whim to take sexual nectar from his new servant Delilah, Adam kept his loins in check. Adam didn't really need to sleep. Adam grabbed his white dress shirt and put it on, hiding his rippling muscles from the naked eye. His glorious body, bestowed upon him by the gods and that accursed wizard Shazam never really tires or becomes fatigued. 

Delilah, tired and drained from last night's life-changing turn of events, slept soundly on a king sized bed with pink and white covers and a mattress so soft you could immerse yourself in it. It was a good night's sleep on a cloud. Surrounding them in the room Adam had hoped that Delilah had enjoyed her night on the bed.

Adam pulled the covers to reveal her naked body. Unlike many men Delilah had been in contact with (millions, Adam assumed) he didn't flinch upon such a sight. He owned Delilah. Every inch of her is his and she swore loyalty to him. Of course, she did have a fiery spirit. Adam admired it while she looked up and stared right into her new master's eyes. "I find it hard to believe that you've never seen a woman's naked body before."

Tossing the covers over her once more, Adam turned toward the window. Walking toward the sunbathed glass he said, "Get cleaned up and put on some decent clothing. We are, as you might say, upgrading your wardrobe."

If she was going to be his servant, she must dress the part. Evidently the style of dress to which Adam was accustomed faded with the ages. But he understands the dressings of those in power are not as extravagant as in his time. It suited him just fine. A king was more than the shining golden headdresses, white flowing cloths and the wine he drank. It was all about the power, which Adam possessed a thousand-fold.

Delilah stood up from the bed, pulling the covers with her to conceal her nakedness. She walked into the bathroom and discarded the sheets before closing the door behind her. "Sir," she said from within, "After the shopping, what then?"

In an age where magic was all but forgotten, laptops and computers took the place of spell books and sorcery. Adam decided it was time to marry magic and science in a union which would ensure that his reign over the world would be indefinite.

Adam looked over to the duffel bag of weed he'd found from the car of Delilah's now-deceased pimp, D. As well as fighting off his own carnal impulses, Adam had read up on a broadcasting executive who had legal problems concerning drugs found in his place of residence. Using a "borrowed" laptop from the hacker who created his modern identity and the good Doctor Sivana's memory of past news stories, the choice was relatively simple.

The man in question was named Marvin Whitton, a forty-five year old man about town and CEO of Whizard communications. His company was on the cutting edge of surveillance, telecommunications and wireless technology. What suited Adam's purposes best of all was learning that Whitton had neither a wife nor children that depended on him; which was perfect for Adam. Another interesting fact he learned while looking up his target was that Whitton had an affinity for redheads.

Answering Delilah's last question, Adam said, "After shopping, I think we'll go to a beauty salon." A half-smile formed on his handsome face as he closed the laptop on the table next to the outside balcony.

* * *

Mary walked toward her car in the teacher's parking lot of Fawcett High School. Taking her lunch break but forgetting to bring a lunch, she decided not to focus on eating at the moment. Wearing a loose-fitting red blouse and black denim pants, she tried to go for a casual look on her first day of internship. Getting into C.C.'s black four door 2002 Sedan, Mary shut herself in. 

Tears streamed down her face like Niagara Falls the instant the door shut. Sobs and wails followed the tears as she let out her sorrow. Seeing so many children Billy's age, especially so soon after the disappearance at the hospital was too much. Her father had no right to ask her to stomach this. Fortunately the principal was reasonable enough to send her home until she was ready. Wiping her tears, Mary turned on the car and pulled out slowly from the parking lot.

* * *

As the afternoon rolled around, C.C. Batson turned on the television in the living room and sat down on the sofa. He wore a clean white tee-shirt and a pair of navy blue sweatpants. Fresh from lifting a couple sets of weights in the garage, he had come in to settle down. A fresh cup of coffee was in one hand and a bowl of pretzels in the other. Marilyn was still asleep and he had some down time. Turning on the news the anchorman came on to interrupt a soap opera. 

A gray haired older gentleman with a thinly cut mustache and glasses was seen behind the news desk. A graphic appeared beside his head as he spoke. "Good afternoon, Fawcett City I'm Sterling Morris and this is a breaking news story. Police are investigating a strange accident at Dale's Scrap emporium near I-75. Remains to a robot belonging to a Dr. Clyde Frasier were found among the wreckage.

"Frasier himself was found earlier this morning dead in the parking lot of the Fawcett City Coliseum. There was reported to be hundreds of thousands of dollars worth in damage done to the interior of the building where, officials believe, the robot had gone haywire and caused the destruction."

C.C. cocked his head to the side at the strange story he had just heard. He had no idea robotics had become so advanced that they could create monsters capable of causing massive property damage. First the Museum being struck by that freak lightning storm, then the hospital's power goes out right before Billy's disappearance, then the Coliseum is attacked by a robot and then found destroyed in a scrap yard. Maybe it was the lack of sleep from comforting his wife, but C.C. began to believe the world had gone utterly and completely insane.

Sterling said, seemingly looking right at C.C. and said, "In other news, are you alright, C.C.? Did you get enough sleep last night?"

C.C. had snorted awake on the couch with his soda spilled all over the carpet and his bowl of pretzels overturned. He noticed that Marilyn had come downstairs wearing only her white robe and slippers. Passing through the living room and into the kitchen she said, "C.C.? I said are you alright?"

He rubbed his stubble addled, troubled face and said, "Yeah, hon. I'm fine. I slept alright. How did you sleep?"

Marilyn pulled sandwich meat from the refrigerator and began making herself a sandwich. Her husband bolted from the sofa and said, "Honey, let me get that for you."

C.C. kept walking toward the kitchen, his voice insistent and direct, "Marilyn, please. I'll fix you a sandwich, you go sit down."

"I'm not an invalid, sweetheart," she said, pulling out two slices of bread and covering them with mayonnaise.

"I'll handle it, honey, alright? Please? Afterwards, I'll take the trash out, sweep the porch and you can---"

"I can what, C.C.? Sit back and listen to the quiet of the phone not ringing? Sorry, no. Not going to do it. I said I wouldn't go back to school and teach, so I'll keep myself occupied here."

"No you're not, you're going to sit down and let me handle the housework for right now."

"Fine," Marilyn said, setting the butter-knife down into the mayo and sitting at the dining room table. A sharply exhaled huff left her lungs as she sat down. While her beloved spouse finished making her sandwich, she said, "Where's Mary?"

"I told her to go ahead and go to work."

"You what? I'd think the school would understand and let her be here."

"Well, what is she going to do here that she can't do here? I mean, at least this way she is bringing in a paycheck while I wait for the semester to start over at Fawcett University. Besides, Mary seemed to be handling herself really well."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Marilyn grimaced, bolting to her feet, "Billy is the age of a good portion of the students at that high school! She'll be reminded of him in every child she sees! That is the very reason that I didn't want to go back to teaching;  
not to mention the people who know that Billy is missing are going to be constantly showering her with condolences and pity! And you tell me you told her to go and subject herself to that? What were you thinking?!"

C.C.'s wife turned on her heels and walked away with the look of surprise and disgust he'd never forget. He put a hand over his face and grunted out a heavy sigh, realizing his mistake.

Upstairs in the Batson main bedroom, Marilyn floated the covers onto the mattress and made sure they were straightened out. She barely heard her husband ascending the stairs and tapping on the mantle. Looking up at him, she noticed his bloodshot eyes and slumped posture. Her eyes narrowed as she turned back toward the bed. She looked at her weary husband, whose eyes were beginning to dip and shake unsteadily from lack of sleep. "You were up all night weren't you?" she asked with a sharp tone.

C.C.'s response was none too dull either as he said, "You cried yourself to sleep, Marilyn. In twenty four years of marriage, you've never once done that. Not when your grandmother passed away, not when we were caught in the middle of the fighting in Israel while on site for an excavation, not even when you weren't sure Billy would make it out the hospital the day he was born."

C.C. leaned against the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Taking a deep breath, he continued, saying, "I'm supposed to be the man of this family. The rock, the foundation; the breadwinner, the bearer of all our burdens. Maybe I was being naïve or too pig-headed but I was always taught a man must be strong and unwavering. When those tears fell down your cheek, I didn't know what to think. I felt powerless because here is the mother of my children in p-pain and I can't do anything to make it right."

Marilyn looked over to her husband, who slumped to the floor against the wall, his face buried in his hands and a soft whimper coming from his lips. She was still angry that C.C. would put himself, not to mention, Mary and herself through his stubbornness. She sat in front of him on the foot of the bed and put her hand on his knee. Marilyn said, "You being here and supporting this family is what you can do, C.C. But you can't do this by yourself because you're not the only one in this. We're a family; a team. Our strength is being together."

She wrapped her arms around her husband and squeezed him tightly, saying, "But if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I'm kicking your ass. Do you hear me, Clarenence Charles Batson?"

Pulling his head up from his hands and letting out one laugh in a multitude of sobs, he nodded and said, "Yes, Ma'am."

Clomping footsteps charged up the staircase as Mary could be heard shouting, "Dad! I need to talk to…" the angry young woman stopped seeing her father on the floor, crying with his wife's arms around him. Mary's hardened face became soft as she heard her father apologizing

"I'm sorry, Mary," he said through his tears, "I'm sorry I forced you to go to school. I'm sorry I've been such a jerk to you. Can you forgive me?"

Mary knelt down and said, "Dad, why? Why would you do that? You know I want to be here with you and mom."

"I'm sorry," were the only words C.C. could let out, his head dipping down once more. He felt ashamed, unable to look at his family out of what he had done out of his own sense of being a "strong man." Mary joined her mother in embracing her father.

* * *

Billy sat his head back against the rear wall of his kennel, finally getting the courage to see if his muscles would respond after an hour or so of resting. He began to think back to the day he began changing. Blazing through town on his skateboard, tossing Goliath around, even the shock he got from touching the door in the Principal's office. 

Suddenly, a slow, sly smile crept onto Billy's face. He lowered his head to the floor and heard the squeak of hydraulic springs adjusting to his movements. Also beneath him was the low hum of a generator. "Abigail?" he shouted, "Are you alright?"

For the first couple of minutes, all he could hear was soft whimpers and sobs. He wanted to bolt out of the kennel and take her into his arms. But he needed to see if this gambit would pay off. Holding his hands to the metallic plate and closing his eyes, Billy focused his mind on the lightning. It had worked before when he called out for the Olympian Lord's name the first time. Hopefully for Billy, it could work again.

_Wait!_

"What now, man?!" Billy gritted through his teeth, thrashing his fists to the side.

_Remember when Gregor asked if you were looking around for him? I think he's been watching you this whole time. _

Billy ran a hand over his face and let out a heavy breath of frustration. That was just what he needed to hear. But there seemed to be no other way out. He wished there was some kind of method of contacting Shazam. If he was here, there'd be some kind of hope.

The light pouring into the container faded slowly. Shade lent a grim release from the sun's rays turning the metallic kennels into small ovens. Billy heard the commotion from the other kennels and he began to panic. German words were shouted and the barking of the dogs began to become silent as though they were being pulled somewhere.

He wanted to breathe in a sigh of relief until he heard the door on his kennel lock. The young teen's eyes narrowed in suspicion of what was going on until he heard Captain Marvel's voice inside his head.

_It's already starting. I thought we had more time. _

Billy shook his head fervently. "No," he muttered under his breath, "No way am I going to let these douchebags summon that Sabbac thing. Tell me again about the ritual."

_During a solar eclipse, five sacrifices must be made at the five points of a pentagram to summon Sabbac to the mortal world and spell the doom of mankind. _

Running the process through his mind, Billy's eyes opened in horror. He remembered Ishamel's taunt of leaving the kennel and being attacked by the dogs. They were being led away. There was no need for them anymore because the doors to the kennels were locked. Also coming to mind was the fact that each kennel was sitting on top of pressure sensitive explosive devices. "That's it," Billy whispered, "that's how he's going to complete the sacrifice. He's going to detonate every kennel simultaneously."

_Well, that would be the most logical course of action, not to sound all Mr. Spock and I barely have a clue on who that is. But what's the trigger?_

"It's gotta be something, a computer code or a dead man's switch," Billy replied, banging his hand against the door and grunting. If only he could see how Gregor's trigger, there might've been a way to formulate a plan. From seemingly nowhere, thunder clashed overheard, while mutterings were heard from outside. Not just from one man, but from several.

_They've begun the incantation. When it's finished, so are we. _

"Like hell," the stubborn teenager whispered, bracing his arms against the sides of his kennel and putting himself in a track runner's starting position.

_What do you think you're doing, Billy?_

"On my mark, I'm gonna say the magic word and throw myself forward. Afterwards, it's up to you to fly your big red ass off and stop Ishamel from detonating the kennels."

_That's your plan?_

"If you have a better one, you should've thought of it a couple of hours ago. We're out of time."

_We don't know what I'm facing out there. Not to mention we don't know where or what the detonator is!_

"Sitting here and guessing won't get us anywhere but dead."

_What if you trigger the explosives by leaving the kennel?_

Not likely, since we're locked in and he doesn't expect anyone leaving, he has no reason to keep the explosives on.

_I hope you know what you're doing, kid._

"That makes two of us. Ready?"

_When you are._

"SHAZAM!" shouted Billy from within his kennel, propelling himself forward. Time slowed to a crawl but the lightning that consumed him was still remarkably instantaneous.

* * *

Captain Marvel exploded out of the kennel, blowing the door off its hinges and the leaving the rest of the structure in a heap of twisted metal. Using Mercury's fantastic speed, Shazam's champion took a quick survey of his surroundings. As he flew, each second to him passed like an eternity. 

There was nothing but mountains to the east and sand as far as the eye could see. Fifty feet to his left were several dozen pup tents surrounding a concrete bunker. Outside each tent was a pair of half naked men and women kneeling and bowing their heads. Ten men stood along the outside of a sand-drawn pentagram, two per kennel. Their shirts were off, displaying pentagrams burned onto their flesh, directly over each man's heart.

In the middle of the design stood a tall, blond-haired man in a blood-red robe, holding a dead man's switch in his left hand. Captain Marvel immediately saw the device and with the Wisdom of Solomon deduced its purpose. He redirected his flight and within an instant snatched the dead man's switch from the man's hand. The force of the Captain's grab, however, tore some of the robed one's fingers from his left hand. Only his index, pinky finger and thumb remained.

As time regained its pace, the men standing by the kennels stopped their chanting. Several called out, "Brother Ishamel!" Before they could tend to him, a red and white streak simultaneously knocked them all aside, sending each man sprawling into the sand a considerable distance from where they stood. The roofs of the kennels flew off, as did the walls. A whirlwind of dust blinded the crowd as well as Ishamel Gregor, who was the last to be forcibly removed from the pentagram.

Captain Marvel landed on what was originally Billy's kennel, the dust tornado slowly fading away. He knelt down and whispered, "Shazam." Within the span of ten seconds, Ishamel Gregor and his men were unconscious and the captives were free. The crowd gasped in horror, disbelief, and shock as not only had Sabbac not come, but their leader was defeated. The solar eclipse was still in effect but no demon would be summoned this day.

Police sirens were heard in the distance as Billy turned his head to see red and blue lights approaching quickly. The other teenage captives slowly moved off of their pressure pads, tentatively testing their newly won freedom. They began running toward the police lights and cheering. The dejected crowd scattered upon seeing the authorities approaching.

Ishamel Gregor stirred and saw his best laid plans unraveling before his eyes. The blood loss made him shaky and unsteady as he reached his feet. "N-no!!!!" he shouted to his followers, "Come back! We must stand strong against those who defy the—the w—will of Sabbac!" He turned his eyes toward Billy, who was still holding the dead man's switch in his hand.

"Looks like you were right, Ishamel," Billy said, standing to his feet, "We all were set free. Too bad it's your turn to be locked up. Have a nice life; sentence, that is."

"You!" the red robed cult leader snarled, staggering towards this strange young man who'd been causing him so much trouble. "I don't know how, but you did this! How? How did you do that?! I demand to know your secret!!!" he dropped to his knees and crawled forward, wanting to strangle the teenager with his bare hand.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret, would it?" Billy replied, walking away from the kennel remains and toward the rest of the captives.

"I'll find out, boy. Mark my words. You think this is over?! It has barely begun! I WILL summon my lord Sabbac to this realm and when he comes, I'll make sure you and those you love are the first ones he slaughters!" Ishamel's words were dripping with hatred as well as spittle while he dragged himself to the very pressure pad that Billy had occupied for the past several hours.

Billy paused in his tracks, hands shaking at the threat made by the madman. Clearly, he was insane enough to make good on his promise. However, he looked in his left hand, seeing the dead man's switch. He thought to himself, the bombs are still armed. He could let go and send Gregor straight to Sabbac. He could imagine hands closing around Ishamel's throat, threatening to deliver eternal punishment for not freeing him. But Gregor seemed destined for a trip to the basement and there really was no hurry.

As he walked toward his freedom and the authorities, he couldn't help but wonder how the hell the police found out where they were. Gregor howled numerous threats at him but he didn't care to listen.

* * *

As the police rounded up many of the cult members, an elderly gentleman with long white hair tied in a ponytail stood by and watched the scene unfold from atop the mountain range. He adjusted his white business suit and tie. Adapting to the modern world was a chore in and of itself but upon hearing about a cult trying to bring Sabbac into the mortal world, he had to take notice. 

Shazam had been watching since the cult of Sabbac had brought in its last would-be sacrifice. When the dawn broke, he had pulled out his purple cell phone and began dialing. Having trouble figuring out the device at first, he turned it on and kept trying to dial out but it would not give out a signal on the ground level. With a light tap of the magic lightning under his control, the cell phone began working perfectly.

Within minutes, he had called the Fawcett City police and alerted them of the whereabouts and circumstances of the missing teenagers that were talked about in the news broadcasts.

Upon seeing his champion emerge from the container and subdue the cult leader and his henchmen, Shazam felt a swell of pride for the creation of the gods. The new champion of justice was on the job. However, Billy's strength of will despite the dire situation took the wizard by surprise. At first, the boy seemed very reluctant to bear the mantle of host for Captain Marvel. Perhaps he was finally settling into becoming what blind fate had chosen him to be. At least that's what he hoped.

But the wizard took comfort in knowing the world of mortals was safe once more. However, there was a piece of business to attend to. There was an old friend he hadn't spoken to for a long time and a conversation was very much past due.

* * *

In the dark of a spacious high-rise office building, Marvin Whitton, a stocky, older man and a young red haired woman entered, laughing hysterically. Both appeared to be intoxicated as they stumbled against a desk. The man put his lips upon the woman's neck and he grunted hungrily. Her face, seemingly interested at first, turned to disgust once out of the sight of her liaison. 

He pulled himself away and sat down behind his desk. The night had started off boring until this fabulous vision that currently occupied his office came to him at a bar and bought him a drink. She wasn't very refined by any means, but he could never resist a fiery mane of flowing red hair. Showing the contents of her purse, he spied something else about her that he liked. Something he liked to use to take the edge off every now and then. Running a large broadcasting company was stressful work, after all.

As the night went on, they partied hard and drank even harder while cruising in his limousine. He couldn't shake the feeling, however, that someone was following them. But he was in the company of a beautiful woman. He had learned not to dwell on such things. His new driver, however, seemed rather cold, distant, and disgusted with his employer. He'd have to talk to him about that tomorrow.

Marvin pulled out a dime bag of the "stress-relieving" herb from his pocket and began dumping some onto a thin sheet of paper. Rolling it into a cigarette, he put it to his lips.

From out of nowhere, a man in a black business suit bearing a striking resemblance to the limo driver appeared. He held out his index finger, upon which danced a spark of electricity. In a soothing but regal voice, the man said, "Do you need a light, Mr. Whitton?"

Stunned by the intrusion, Marvin fell out of his chair and the unlit doobie fell to the ground. "Look here, uh…uh…"

"Adam" he said, holding his head up high. "Adam Sivana."

"What is the meaning of this?!" Whitton said getting to his feet.

"Changing of the guard, that is the meaning," Adam replied, stepping methodically toward his prey, "and if that isn't simple enough, I'll explain it to you. You will sign over ownership of your company to me. I will be running the company behind the scenes. A suitable stipend will be sent weekly to your new home in a retirement community, possibly somewhere in Florida. It won't be what you're used to but it will be enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life."

Marvin stared in disbelief at the audacity of this man to order him to not only sell his company but to retire at least ten years early. Laughter erupted from within him, first through snickers and then through boisterous noise echoing through the immense office. "Do you have any idea what it takes to run a company? The hassles of putting up with unions, insurance companies for liability, sexual harassment, 401K, medical, dental, vision, etcetera? Even if I did sign the company over to your dumb ass, which I won't, you'd bankrupt the company before the week was out with bad management decisions."

"That's what advisors are for, you fool. I had them in my era, and I shall have them in this one, as well."

"You're insane!"

"And you are trying my patience. Sign ownership of the company to me now."

"Or you'll what?" Marvin said, getting to his feet and staring defiantly at Adam.

Adam tilted his head to the side and said, "I will this." With one hand, he grabbed Marvin Whitton's arm and twisted it back, snapping it easily. The older gentleman let out a bloodcurdling scream a second before his face was driven against his desk. Adam put a pen in Marvin's right hand and twisted it back, causing the older man to cry out as he was forced to sign a notarized will made out to the name of Marvin Whitton.

"How did you…how did you…"

"Find that?" Adam finished the query, shoving Marvin to the floor into a quivering bloody heap. "You would be surprised at what a small piece of plastic, silicon and electricity can create in this age. Then again, maybe you wouldn't be. Technology is a marvelous thing. It is no wonder the world has turned its back on the old ways. Reconciliation between the old and new world is in order. Pity you won't be here to see it."

Before Marvin could ask what that meant, Adam grabbed the older man by his throat and tossed him out of the window, leaving him to plummet to a screaming, broken death on a passing cab, causing it to swerve out of control and hit a light pole.

"My dear Delilah, phase one is complete. We must take our leave now but when we return, it will be to a building full of mourning. The walls will reek with grief as well as envy and wounded pride." Adam said, looking over the edge of the window to see the damage he had done.

* * *

Marilyn was the first one to enter the police station. C.C. followed her with Mary close behind. They had heard that cultists had kidnapped a number of children from the Fawcett area and were attempting to murder them in a ritual. But by an anonymous call and a stroke of miraculous luck, they were saved and the leader was in custody. 

Billy was finally out of the hospital gown when they saw him. He was currently dressed in a spare police shirt and sweatpants. He ran toward his mom and dad before almost being crushed by their hugs. Kisses littered his cheeks and his mother's sobs rang loudly in his ears. His eyes widened as fate slapped him with a reality he had not considered. As Shazam's champion, he would have to face numerous challenges, risk his life along with Captain Marvel to battle back the darkness. Alerting his parents to this fact, especially after they had just found him again, would kill them. It would also likely kill him, as well, to break their hearts like that.

How would they be able to understand? How would they grasp it? Billy can barely wrap his mind around it himself and he's smack in the middle. Not to mention Mary or Freddy. How would he be able to tell his sister that inside him is a man with the powers of six mighty heroes and gods? How do you tell your best friend that you can turn into a completely different person?

But on the other hand, how could Billy lie to them? How could he keep this enormous a secret from them? And how long does he think he could keep it up? These questions plagued his mind from the minute he hugged his parents to the minute they got into the family car and started home.

"It's so good to have you back, son," C.C. said with a smile so wide and bright, you couldn't tell that he hadn't had a wink of sleep since yesterday.

Mary looked over and nudged her little brother, saying, "You ever disappear on us again, they're never gonna remove my foot from your ass."

"Mary!" grunted Marilyn, looking at her youngest child and saying, "You know you're going to be missing school still…the police want you to seek counseling for what you've just gone through. Fortunately for you we have the number of a reputable psychologist."

"Mom?" Billy mumbled out.

"Yes, hon?" Marilyn said, looking to her precious son, not wanting to take her eyes off of him for a second.

With a deep breath, Billy said, "There's something I have to tell all of you…"

To be continued…


	6. What They Don't Know

"Ultimate Shazam: What they don't know"

Shazam, Captain Marvel, Black Adam, Beautia Sivana, the Batson family are properties of DC Comics.

"Rumor has it Mr. Whitton jumped to his death."

"I heard the police aren't really sure that it was suicide."

"What was he thinking? Signing over his company to this Sivana guy?"

The gossip mill was flowing like the Ganges since the death of Wizard Communications CEO Marvin Whitton one month ago. To the shock of many and dismay of many more, the strange man known as Adam Sivana was named as his successor. The newcomer would inherit the entire company, as well as Whitton's stock, and place of abode. The will was very explicit and notarized legally, which made it binding. With no family to contest the inheritance, Adam would gain control over everything.

Walking through the sliding elevator doors, Adam stepped out, with Delilah in tow. He adorned himself in a black Armani suit with a lightning bolt lapel on his jacket collar. His servant (officially his assistant) wore a form-fitting red business suit. Delilah's tightly styled brunette hair was woven into a ponytail while Adam kept his jet black hair slicked back.

As they approached the hallway toward the CEO main office, two lines of employees gathered on opposite sides of the corridor. Strong in stature and his head held high, Adam marched forward, seeing the jealousy and worry stricken among the faces of his new servants. Delilah, on the other hand, saw accusatory stares and judgmental sneers. It was as if she followed her accomplice to the gallows awaiting the executioner's blade.

Two men at the end of both lines opened the door, displaying Adam's new, spacious working place. A smile on couldn't be found on either man's face, but Adam didn't care. He was about to enter the next stage in his plan. The doors shut behind Delilah as they return to the scene of the crime. This time, they will be staying a lot longer than their previous visit.

"It is as I said, Delilah," Adam said, his hands behind his back, surveying the city laid out before him through the newly repaired windows, "The walls reek with grief, envy, and wounded pride. One could almost drown in their collective disappointment."

Turning back to see that she was simply staring blankly into nothingness, he felt a chill. "Delilah?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

A voice echoed from behind him, "You were always good at disappointing people, Teth." Hearing the name, as well as a familiar sensation pulsating through his body, alerted Adam to the presence of his captor. The one who, with him, watched the centuries pass into the abysmal oblivion of eternity. He turned to face the wizard Shazam.

His predecessor was wearing a white business suit and tie. His long, flowing white beard had been trimmed down, keeping it closely cropped to his face. The silvery hair that reached his back was also cut to shoulder length, but tied into a pony tail similar to Delilah's.

Adam kept his composure at the sight of his former mentor. Spending millennium after millennium in suspended animation with someone you despise would make even the most peaceful person hostile. But Adam mentally refused to give in to his emotions. "Hello, Jacob."

The wizard winced at the sound of his past name. It brought back memories that needn't be dredged up and he defied his mind to recall them now. "It appears you've, as they say, hit the ground running," Shazam said, surveying his surroundings.

"I simply cashed in an old account. I'll be trading up very soon. If you were smart, you'd do the same." he replied curtly.

The white clothed wizard let out a heart laugh before raising his eyebrows in incredulity. "Are you really going to give me the recruitment speech after all these years?" he asked.

"Considering our history, I find such an offering to be a testament of my patience and willingness to forgive past transgressions."

Shazam stepped closer toward Adam, his eyes narrowing and lips pursed. Gritting his teeth, he said, "_Your_ willingness to forgive? Who propped up whose beaten, bruised body like a scarecrow in front of the people you terrorized into ruling?"

"You imprisoned me for thousands of years in a rotting, mummified maggot farm. I think that makes us more than even."

"All you had to do was step down and rejoin the fight for justice. I gave you a choice, Adamtutamen," shouted the old wizard with his index finger aimed directly at Adam like a laser point.

"No, you gave me an ultimatum. You were trying to tell a king how to rule his kingdom. In hindsight, you should've known better than to do that. Acknowledge this, Jacob and do well to heed my words. The gods who granted me my powers could've taken them from me at any point. But they didn't, and do you know why? "

"Actually, they said and I quote, 'your apprentice, your problem.'"

"Believe what you want, old man! Those people needed a light to show them the way; they needed a strong hand to protect their loved ones and keep them safe. Who better to do that than someone who has lost everything dear to him?"

"You do that every time, Teth. The death of loved ones is not a substitute for a moral compass."

"So says the mighty all-knowing wizard."

"So says common damn sense."

Adam let out a sharp breath and walked over toward the still frozen Delilah. Looking her over, he mentally turned his attention to her wardrobe. "Common sense is for the common man," he said, tilting his head at his assistant, "if there is one thing I am not, it is that."

Shazam stepped behind Adam's desk slowly and looked at the newly replaced window. The world had no idea what it was in for. A god-like tyrant was lurking at Wizard communications for his chance to enforce his rule over them. If he didn't loathe Adam so much, he'd laugh at the irony.

Adam looked at his former mentor at the desk. A snarl quickly crawled over his lip and then out of sight. An interloper was near his throne and he did not like it one bloody bit. His eyes burned with the desire to drive his fist straight through the old man's face.

"So, how is the new lapdog?" Adam said in a pleasant tone, "Is he house-broken yet?"

Shazam's eyes flew up to the face of his former protégé. It was obvious he wasn't wasting any time. The wizard said, "I'll deal with my charge. And in time, he'll deal with you."

"Promises, promises," scoffed Adam, tossing his hand up in a dismissive gesture.

"Do you think the modern authorities have figured out you are Whitton's killer?" Shazam said walking toward Adam slowly with his hands behind his back.

Adam thought of feigning culpability but decided that since the wizard already knew, pretense was meaningless. Who would he tell? Who would believe him? Adam said, "I admit, people may be more technologically advanced and have more access to vast amounts of information than ever before. However, at the end of the day, mortals are all still the same; individually brilliant, collectively stupid. They don't have a clue, as it were."

"I don't see why you brought her into your fold," Shazam nodded toward Delilah, still frozen in time with a blank look on her face, "What purpose does she serve?"

"Mine and mine alone," Adam replied with an arched eyebrow and stepping closer toward his former mentor.

"She is rather easy on the eyes now that you cleaned her up. Though, she isn't as beautiful as Is---"

With a motion so swift even the mighty wizard could barely react in time, Adam clutched Shazam's throat. "You dare speak her name in my presence?!" he hissed.

"I'm not the only one who has a past he'd like to forget," Shazam said, gripping Adam by the wrist, trying to fend off the attack.

Squeezing his grip tightly around Shazam's neck, Adam replied, "The difference between you and me, Jacob, is that I am leaving mine in the dunes I was buried in. You still cling to the ever-tedious fight for the undeserving preservation of mortal-kind. I, on the other hand, am now the CEO of a telecommunications company and will seek to expand my already burgeoning power."

"Do not trick yourself, Adamtutamen-Teth. You are still the same despotic bastard I imprisoned in the sarcophagus all those millennia ago," the wizard said, finally freeing himself of his former charge's clutches.

Adam stepped back from Shazam and tilted his head up, looking down his nose at the white-suited wizard. "And you're still the same idealistic old fool I outgrew." He said through his gritted, perfect teeth, "Send your champion. Pin your futile hopes on his back, if you must. They will be crushed under my boot along with him." He turned his back to the old man.

Shazam turned away from Adam and looked to the New York City skyline. He said, "Your arrogance and rage will be your downfall. Mark my words."

"Mark mine, old man!" Adam spat back, whipping around with his finger extended. But no one was there. He spun around frantically searching for the whereabouts of the wizard. Shazam was gone, and time began to resume its normal flow.

Delilah resumed her movements like nothing had ever happened. Her eyes arched wondering why he was looking around the room like he was searching for something. "Mark your what, sir?" she said, confused.

Taking a deep breath and drawing forth a well of calmness within him, he let out a smile and said, "Mark my words, Delilah. We are doing the gods' work here. Fate will judge us approvingly, I assure you." Adam's servant gave a light shrug in response and left the office to assume her position at the reception desk in front of the main office.

* * *

Billy Batson slammed his fist down on the alarm clock and saw that it was 8:30 in the morning. His first therapy session with the hospital psychiatrist was in thirty minutes.

_You slept in?!_

"Shut up" the young man muttered, leaping out of his bed and making a beeline for the closet. Flinging it open, he snatched the first piece of clothing that had caught his eye; a red T-shirt with yellow collars. Snatching up a pair of blue jeans from the floor, he slipped one foot in and fell to the floor with a thud.

The sound prompted the voice of his mother to announce from downstairs, "William Benjamin Batson! You're going to be late if you're not out this door with me in thirty seconds, mister!"

"I'm coming, mom!" Billy replied, trying to hide a grunt. He pulled the shirt over his head and fastened the button on his jeans. With a quick swipe, he picked up a pair of black tennis shoes and flew out the bedroom door. Making sure he put his shoes on before he made it to the steps, Billy ran downstairs and toward the front door.

His mother Marilyn stood at the door waiting in a light blue t-shirt, black denim pants and white casual shoes. Her mahogany purse was slung over her shoulder and her arms were crossed impatiently. "Hold it! Raise the drawbridge, mister," she said, holding her hand out to block his exit.

Looking down, Billy could see that in his haste, he forgot to zip his fly. Quickly remedying the complication, he then flew past Marilyn toward the car. Shutting the door behind her, she made her way to the car. As they pulled out, she looked over to her son and said, "You sure you're up for this?"

Nodding, Billy answered, "Yeah mom. I'm gonna have to see the doctor sometime, right? Besides, you've been keeping me cooped up in the house for the past month."

"Sweetie," the mother said looking straightforward into traffic, "the day your youngest child gets kidnapped by a crazed devil-worshipping cult; you come and ask me if I was being excessively overprotective."

"Mom, I get you were worried---" Billy began to explain before being cut off.

"Worried? No. I worry about gas prices going past four bucks a gallon. I worry about your sister coming home one day with tattoos, piercings in places I don't want to know about and a biker named 'Kangaroo.' Why he's named 'Kangaroo', I'll leave to your imagination.

"What I was about you was desperate and confused. So much had happened in such a span of time that I…You got into a fight which resulted in a kid having a broken hand. You went nuts in the principal's office and threw yourself against the wall for no reason. Then you disappear from your hospital bed, which looked like someone tried to cook you on it, by the way. Come to find out, some whack-jobs kidnapped you and tried to sacrifice you along with some other kids?"

"I'm sorry, Mom," the young man said. He didn't exactly know why he was apologizing. None of the events that happened to him were his fault. It was lucky he didn't have to tell her about the fact that he can switch places with a superhero. Another story he was glad he didn't tell was the fight with the killer robot.

Billy was close to spilling the beans one month ago when his family picked him up from the police station. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, neither Marilyn nor C.C. could keep their mouths shut about how thankful they were to have their boy back. Since then, Billy and Captain Marvel had debated furiously the consequences of telling them the secret. The champion wanted to bring in Shazam but Billy talked him out of it, saying it was between him, his family and no one else. In the end, Billy kept quiet and decided to just move on with his life, such as it would ever be again.

After twenty-five minutes of uncomfortable silence and insipid pop songs, Billy was dropped off at St. David's Memorial Hospital. Revisiting the place where he first transformed sent a chill down his spine. But for him to be cleared to go back to school, he had to go through the long and arduous task of talking to a shrink.

He stepped through the automatic double doors at the entrance into a moderately filled lobby. Magazines cluttered the coffee table in two encircled waiting areas. After checking in with the receptionist, Billy sat down on one of the lobby's thinly-cushioned red and brown seats. If one wasn't suffering from back problems before, they would be after sitting in those chairs for too long.

Picking up a magazine next to him, the young teen flipped through some pages to pass the time. Before he could find out Vogue's top fifty ways to please his man, Beautia Sivana, tall, blonde and radiant even in a doctor's long white coat and scrubs, stepped into the lobby. "Billy Batson?" she called out. He raised his hand and she let out the softest of smiles and said, "Come with me, please."

At once, within Billy's mind, Captain Marvel's metaphorical jaw struck the ground. He wanted to leap out of the teenage boy's body and sweep her into his arms. Captain Marvel never really had the chance to look over the human female form before. Mostly all he'd seen was the wizard Shazam, robots, outer space, and Billy's mom and sister. Not that they weren't attractive, but they were his family and the idea of him with either woman was more than a little creepy.

_Holey Moley._

Billy paused before getting up, focusing his attention inward. He hoped this wouldn't be a problem. He could almost feel Captain Marvel panting after the doctor like a wolf in a Tex Avery cartoon. Cautiously, he followed the doctor toward her office. Seeing that she was almost an inch taller than he was, he folded a short smile and then walked with her.

The pair walked down a long hallway, the doctor leading Billy along to her office door. Opening the door, he saw a quaintly furnished space, with a sofa couch to the right wall, a small bookcase toward the left. Straight ahead was a large wooden desk with a laptop on the top. His eyes drifted sharply at the placard in front of the computer. At first, he could've sworn this was coincidence, but recently, he's learned that coincidence is a delusion. "Sivana?" he said incredulously, "As in Doctor Thaddeus---"

"Yes. But in the future, you should know that I'm willing to discuss anything except my dad, Billy. Remember, the focus of our time together is to see if we can make sure you're coping with the horrific circumstances that you found yourself in."

He silently thought to himself which circumstances she would be referring to. That a wizard bonded his life to a superhuman champion of justice? Or was she referring to the entire Sabbac cult debacle? Billy sat down on the sofa, which seemed be so soft he could sink completely into its comfortable maw.

Doctor Sivana grabbed the armrest of the chair behind her desk and dragged it along the floor. The wheels made the trip easy and didn't leave a mark on the carpet. Sitting down, she brought her hands together and said, "How are you doing today, Billy?" Her sky-blue eyes displayed her generosity and kindness, something Billy didn't see in her father. Not to speak ill of the possessed by god-like former champion of the wizard.

"I'm doing fine," he said casually.

_Billy, she's beautiful. I have to talk to her. Let me out, Billy._

Disregarding the pleas of Captain Marvel within his mind, Billy focused on Beautia's next question, "I take it that was a very traumatic experience you went through. The kids there thought you were some kind of hero."

Recalling the tornado Captain Marvel created to deal with Sabbac's followers and save the captives, the young man gulped then let out a laugh. Trust me, I'm no hero."

_Exactly, I'm the hero._

Billy did all he could to keep from rolling his eyes in response. The psychiatrist sitting across from him leaned back in her chair and said, "How has your home life been?"

"Well to be honest," he replied as he shifted in his chair, "I want to go out and do things again. My mom hasn't let me out of the house for anything. The school's been understanding and everything but the backlog for my schoolwork's gotta be reaching the ceiling by now. Plus, I'm going…uh…what's a good word for nuts but not insane?"

With a bright smile and a giggle, Beautia said, "Try restless."

"Yeah, restless, thanks. Anyway, I really need to get out of the house. For my own sanity and I wish I was kidding."

Nodding, Beautia added, "You're right. Keeping you in the house is not healthy. You need to be among people other than your family to reestablish your comfort with the outside world."

"Not to mention with my big sister still being home after graduating college, she gets to boss me around all day."

"Isn't your sister in her early twenties?"

"It's like that Robin Williams movie about the kid who grew old fast."

"How has your dad been feeling about the situation?"

"He's been trying to get me out of the house, too. But mom won't hear of it. We even tried sneaking out to go to the grocery store but she caught us. She wanted to ground me. But really, what does she call what I'm going through right now?"

"I'll have to have a talk with your mother when she comes to pick you up. She needs to understand that you sheltering yourself from the world is not a healthy way to go. Even talking on the internet doesn't give you the proper social interaction. You can't pick up on body language, tonal cues like sympathy or sarcasm get lost in the translation sometimes unless you're being blatantly obvious."

Billy leaned himself forward, ready to bolt out of the chair and out of the doctor's life, much to the dismay of Captain Marvel. "So am I cured now?" he said with a hopeful tone.

"I'm afraid it's not quite as easy as it seems, Billy. We're going to be meeting every couple of weeks to make sure you're adjusting and fitting back into society."

_So this means I'll be seeing a lot more of you, huh buttercup?_

While Beautia prepared to ask him more probing questions, Billy fought the impulse to vomit.

* * *

In the business district of downtown Fawcett City, movers finished setting a slender cream-colored leather sofa in the middle of a posh living room. The walls were a light shade of red contrasting with white carpeting. A dark-tinted oak bar counter adorned the far wall across from the immaculately clean kitchen.

Entering through the front door, the wizard Shazam took a survey of his surroundings and took in a deep breath. The carpet felt soft beneath his Bruno Magli loafers. The two lumbering workers walked the walk of men who could use a good massage after moving all of the furniture into both downstairs and upstairs.

Sure, he could've simply willed the items into the house by using magic, but then there's the issue of guests coming by and saying, "Oh my God that's just divine, where did you get it?" Shazam couldn't exactly say "Nowhere."

Wearing a blue polo shirt with creaseless tan khaki pants, he walked toward the bar. He handed one of the moving men three one hundred dollar bills in payment for their services. The other began to protest such a gross overpayment but the first one slapped his arm and dragged him out of the apartment.

Unlike Adam, when Shazam cashed in a previous treasure, he went for a smaller scale. Instead of living in five-star hotels, the wizard decided for a beautiful two-story house in Fawcett City's. He was tempted to scale down even further, but even he had standards.

A frown suddenly graced Shazam's wrinkled, weathered face. He sensed that Captain Marvel was beginning to have emotional feelings for a woman. This just wouldn't do. He tried to be a compassionate and understanding mentor in contrast to the one he had. Shazam's mentor, one called Nabu, was authoritative, strict, and unrelenting in setting the guidelines of how he was to be a champion. He was never allowed to partake in the average mortal pleasures.

Shazam wanted things to be different with Adam. He thought that by allowing Adam to be not just a champion of Order, but a feeling, caring, compassionate man that he would've made a better mentor than Nabu could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, Adam's emotions led him to a young woman named Isis. At first, Adam let himself be merely the protector of Khandaq. Briefly making jaunts into the city in mortal form to fight boredom. But once Isis entered Adam's life, there was no reasoning with him anymore. Adam took her for his wife and began to plan a family.

Fate, however, showed the extent of its mercy when Kull, a barbarian ruler from the northern continent laid siege on Khandaq. As Adam went to fight off the warlord, Isis was slain by Kull's men. Upon hearing of her death, Adam returned the favor toward Kull and his hordes. Shazam saw the price one paid for trying to join the selfish idea of love and a life of sacrifice for others. Isis's death started Adam down the path to tyranny.

Shazam gripped his right hand tightly. Never again will he let another charge be manipulated by his emotions. If there is one rule he must enforce without relent it is that Captain Marvel cannot be allowed to have a life outside of his duty.

* * *

Afternoon fell to evening and Captain Marvel soared high over the Fawcett City skyline. He hadn't been out on the town and patrolling since Billy had returned home. Existing solely inside the brain of a sixteen year old teenager was not an experience he wanted to relive. Stretching his arms forward, he pulled upward into the star-filled heavens and performed loop-the-loops. Inhaling and exhaling deep sighs of relief, he let out a laugh.

"This is much much more like it!" shouted the mighty hero, "I thought I was going to stay inside forever!"

_Okay, you're out and getting a much needed outdoor exercise, alright?_

With a grunt and sharp frown, Captain Marvel replied, "Don't talk to me like you're walking the family dog, kid. You have no idea how little there is to do when you're nothing but nothing but an echo inside someone's head."

_I know. You went through all ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall…three times. Then you decided you would try out your chops at singing Styx songs. If I hear "Lady" one more time, I'll jam a wreath stand in my ears._

Police sirens cry out in the distance, causing the champion to turn his attention westward. With keen sight, he spotted a blood-red corvette speeding through town. Following it closely were several Fawcett police cruisers and a helicopter. The mighty champion propelled himself forward, mindful not to be spotted by the chopper. He kept high above the city skyline so as not to pass the vehicle and disturb its flight pattern, as well.

The corvette plunged heedlessly through lane after lane of traffic. The driver rolled the dice of another minute of freedom vs. the rest of eternity in a box under six feet of earth. Keeping a close watch, Captain Marvel saw an opportunity when the corvette crossed a set of train tracks a split second before an oncoming train rolled by. The ground units were cut off and radioing the helicopter units to keep an eye on their quarry.

Spotlights followed the fleeing suspect's crimson cruiser until it vanished into a tunnel. Within minutes, it doubled back and sped out of sight from the air unit. As the chopper whirled back around, realizing they were duped, Captain Marvel launched himself downward toward the fleeing vehicle. Pointing his feet in front of his body as he descended, he ripped through the roof of the corvette, landing perfectly in the passenger seat. The criminal inside screamed at the arrival of his new traveling companion. "Move your foot, please," said the captain. Complying out of fearful instinct, the criminal took his foot off the gas, letting the hero to apply the brake.

"What…" the suspect muttered. Words failed him completely to describe the being sitting next to him. However, Captain Marvel was gracious enough to open the driver's side door.

"Enjoy prison," he said, shoving the driver out of the car. The power of the shove sent him skidding to the pavement. Exiting through the passenger door, he looked over to the crook and stared straight through him. With the sternest of tones he could muster, Captain Marvel said, "Don't move." That being said, the red and gold rocketed into the night sky.

_What the hell was that?! That was completely irresponsible! You could've killed him! _

"I didn't, did I?" Captain Marvel explained, "I made absolutely sure I timed by stop just ri---"

_It doesn't matter! What if there was another passenger in the car? You would've obliterated them! I'm supposed to be the immature, irresponsible one! I'm the kid! What's your excuse? _

Captain Marvel let the wind whip by as he passed over Billy's neighborhood. He knew the young man was right in his assessment. He could've handled the situation better. It didn't stop it from being completely insulting to be told so by a kid. However, since he himself was sort of a newborn or infant, who was Billy to begrudge him a little immaturity now and then? Sure this wasn't exactly the time for it. But, lesson learned.

_Well? What do you have to say for yourself?_

"Will you jam left to right, or right to left?"

_What are you…oh no…please…_

Suddenly, while in mid-flight, Captain Marvel floated along upright and with his loudest singing voice belted out. "LADY!!!! OF THE MORNING!!!! LOVE SHINES!!!! IN YOUR EYES!!!!!!!"

Inwardly, Billy Batson let out a sigh. _The powers of the gods…and he can't carry a tune._

As Captain Marvel smirked in the annoyance of his alter-ego, he set down in the backyard of the Batson household. "SPARKLING!!!! CLEAR AND LOVELY!!!! YOU'RE MY…big finish…" he said strutting and shaking his arms in a jazz-hands motion, "LAAAADYYYYYY!!!!!!!!"

_Would you keep it down and say the word already?! _

"Okay okay," laughed the mighty warrior of justice, "Shazam."

The lightning surged throughout the hero's body and then withdrew into the chest of Billy Batson once more. "That's it," the young man said, "Just for that, I'm going to go through my pop collection again.

_No! Please! Not Paris Hilton!_

"And Lindsay Lohan," Billy said with the most evil of smiles.

_I'll be good! I won't sing anymore Styx or Billy Joel or any other actual musicians with real talent!_

Billy shook his head and said, "Nothin' doin', Cap. I'm in the driver's seat now." Walking into the living room casually, not paying attention, he bumped into something in the dark.

Getting his bearings, the young man came across a stunned Mary. Her eyes were almost wide enough to fall out of her sockets. Her mouth seemed unable to close shut and her pajama-clad body seemed to be absolutely statue-like. When she finally managed to put forth words, two words exited her mouth.

"Explanation. Now."

To be continued…


	7. Exposure

Ultimate Shazam: Exposure

Shazam, Captain Marvel, Black Adam, Beautia Sivana, the Batson family are properties of DC Comics.

Mary sat back in a dining room chair while Billy filled her in on what had happened to him. C.C. giving him the inscription on the sarcophagus to translate, the lightning, the fight at school, battling the robot, the truth behind the capture of the Sabbac cultists, he left no story untold.

"I want to have a word with this Shazam guy," Mary said.

"It's not like I can just call his name. That's what makes me change," he replied, "He'll hardly make time for me, so I doubt he'll see you."

"How do I find him?" Mary said, slapping her hand on the dining room table, "Who does this guy think he is, throwing such a huge responsibility on your shoulders? I mean, for God's sake, you're not even responsible enough to own a car."

The young man squinted and arched a brow. He understood she was trying to be sympathetic and her words came out sarcastically. "Gee, thanks," he said.

"If I didn't see you transform from beefcake to cupcake with my own eyes, I never would've believed you. Mom and Dad sure as hell never would've believed you. No wonder you didn't tell us after the whole cult thing. We'd have thought you were nuts."

"Well, I'm not sure that I'm not. His voice is in my head, while mine's in his when he comes out. Plus, how sane can I really be? I'm seeing that Sivana shrink. Cap's kind of crushing on her."

"Oh," Mary muttered, lowering her head. Pulling it back up and showing a smile, she continued by saying, "That's so sweet…and creepy."

_Creepy? I'm creepy?_

Billy let out a sigh and muttered, "Yes, Cap, in that sense, you are creepy."

Mary scooted backwards from her chair and said, "I'm never going to get used to that."

"Neither will I," he said in kind, flashing a rueful smile.

Billy shook his head and let the past few minutes run through his mind. He looked over at a portrait of himself, C.C., Marilyn, and Mary before she went to college. It reminded him of a time when the worst troubles he could think of having were Mary or his parents walking in on him while he danced to the Hanson CD he'd had since elementary school. He felt that was a good time in his life; before the wizards and gods and cults. He started to consider it life "Pre-Cap."

Looking over to his sister, he noticed a devious smile had crawled across her lips. A twisting, uncomfortable pang came from within him and let him know that whatever thought that passed through her mind, it had ill intentions.

Finally breaking the silence, she said, "I want to talk to him." She didn't say his name outright. But the look on her face let the young man know exactly who she wanted to talk to; and it wasn't Shazam.

Billy let out a chuckle and said, "Uh, no."

"Billy, I want to talk to him."

"Not gonna happen."

"Billy…"

"Forget it."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"No."

"Yes…Dammit!" Billy grunted out, "I'm not doing it."

"Do it or I'm telling," Mary commented, leaning back in her chair. She folded her arms and flashed the smuggest smirk she could muster.

"What are you, 5?" Billy replied, "They'll never believe you."

"Maybe not, but you and I both know you're a terrible liar. And watching your wheels turns and grind trying to come up with a plausible explanation to please our scientist parents will be fun to watch. Do you really want that headache?"

The young man let out a hefty sigh and walked away from the table. Taking a stance at the point where the kitchen and foyer connect, he closed his eyes. Maybe doing this would be a way to shut her up. "Shazam" Billy said almost achingly.

One second and a flash of enveloping lightning later, Captain Marvel once again stood in place of the young man. Mary rose to her feet and looked quizzically at what used to be her little brother. "Well, I gotta say," she said with a smirk, "It is definitely an improvement."

"Thanks, Mary," said the hero, returning a puzzled look of his own.

Mary took a couple of steps back and looked Captain Marvel up and then down. Afterward, she commented, "Muscles, good looks, flashy fashionable costume…So not Billy."

_Give me a break._

"Well, as long as I'm out here," Captain Marvel said, "What do you want to know about your baby brother?"

_What are you doing?_

"Excuse me?" Mary said with her head slightly tilted.

"The wizard who created me bonded me to Billy's life force, as well as giving me his memories. I know every single thing he's done. I know all his dirty little secrets."

_You wouldn't dare._

"Billy once photo-shopped a picture of your face on Cameron Manheim's body and sent it to his friends."

"Did he now?" Mary said, crossing her arms. Her robe fluffed out enough so the light in the dining room reflected lightly off of her cleavage.

Captain Marvel nodded and said, "Yeah, also, the reason Freddie kept calling you on your cell no matter what time it was…Billy kept giving him your number."

Mary said with a smile and light chuckle, "This sure is informative."

_You're going to regret this. I'm going to force you to listen to so much Streisand you'll want to try and find out how to kill yourself._

Grinning from ear to ear, Captain Marvel muttered to himself, "Worth it."

* * *

The morning sun had begun its daily ascension over New York City. The bustling city moved and surged beneath Adam's feet as he looked out from the window of his office at Wizard Communications. New York had a life of its own; of that much Adam was certain. However, it, like all life, was meant to be ruled. In due time, New York, as well as the rest of the world, will bow to him. However, he had other matters to attend to.

With casual, yet deliberate steps, he marched toward the large silver and black boardroom across the hallway from his office. Opening the double doors toward the executive meeting place, he turned toward Delilah, manning the secretarial desk outside. With his eyes stone cold and a firm tone, he told her, "No interruptions unless it is absolutely necessary."

He peered over the elongated black oak table and scanned over the respective board members. He had shaken their hands personally and greeted them along with Delilah when they arrived half an hour ago. Already the mighty Teth sensed their weakness in character and shaky loyalty. They only cared for one thing and one thing only, green paper with the faces of dead mortal leaders on them. Two members, Thomas Dreyfus and Dominic Graves trembled excessively, perspired at an alarming rate and couldn't stop sniffling. When Delilah served drinks earlier, another member named Franklin Quesada would've burned holes in his assistant's bosom if he stared any harder. There appeared only one decent and well put together board member among the entire group.

Adam's palm slapped the table, his hand leaving a deep imprint with cracks all around the area. The attention of the men in the room immediately focused on their new CEO. "Gentlemen," he said, removing his hand from the damage he had inflicted, "I called this meeting to inform you that the days you knew under Marvin Whitton are as dead as he is. We will strive to become the nation's foremost authority on communication and computer technology. There may come a time when we may branch into other fields but for now, we shall begin our course to become the absolute best telecommunications company that this world has ever seen."

With slow, deliberate steps, Adam made his way around the table and stared at each member sitting in the room. "However, to do this, it will require dedication, fortitude, and absolute loyalty to the new company standards," his voice dipped low, in an accusatory manner. The coke addicts seemed to fidget more than usual at the sound of that word.

Continuing his speech, Adam said, "As of today, we will begin random drug testing. There will be no leaks as I will personally decide when each test will be performed. Failure to pass the tests will result in termination; not suspension, nor reprimand, termination in full. If anyone brings drugs into this building for any purpose, I will throw them out myself.

"Starting today we will also enact a zero tolerance policy on sexual harassment. After all, we are gentlemen and should respect the women we work with; as well as employees of other ethnicities. Racial slurs---"

"Mr. Sivana," said Lance Doggett as he stood. He was the youngest and most well groomed board member in the room. Apparently he had no shared any drug habits or deviancy; at least none that Adam could visibly spot. "I apologize for the interruption, sir, but these standards and practices are already in place in the company. Simply what you're suggesting is a 'Zero Tolerance' stance on all of these standing rules."

Staring down the youngest old man in the room, Adam wanted to push his face through the back of his head. "Mr. Doggett, is it?" He said with his eyes narrowed and jaw clinched. "I would appreciate it greatly if you did not interrupt me again regardless of the merit of your statement. The point is…" he paused and walked over toward Mr. Dreyfus and Mr. Graves. He clutched both men by their noses and with a light tug, forced the men to stand up. He continued, "Mr. Dreyfus, Mr. Graves…you are both fired. Leave this building now."

Thomas and Dominic tried to shout their protests but were led by their noses toward the door. Letting go of Dominic, he opened the door and shoved both men out into the hallway. Both men, incredulous at being treated like children, started to walk back into the room. Adam pushed them both down with one hand and the smallest of efforts. "I said leave," he gritted through his teeth, "And take Mr. Quesada with you."

Frank stood up and shouted, "Me? What did I do?"

"I know your kind. You're the one who pleasures looking at women but loves touching them even more. I will not have you bringing your lecherous behavior into my company."

Frank stepped into Adam's face and said under his hate-filled breath, "Your company? This isn't your company, you thief! You're here ten seconds and you're firing people who've been with Wizard since the first store opened! You're insane!"

Adam stared back at him with a disrespectful sneer, saying, "And you're fired. Hit the road walking or hit it screaming out of a thirteen story window."

"Are you threatening me?? I'll sue your ass for this! Dominic, Thomas, they'll likely sue you too! And file charges of assault! You can't treat us like this! Who do you think you are?!"

Clutching Frank by his throat in a tight vice grip, Adam had heard enough. "If you pursue that course of action, I am the man who will make your life so hellishly unbearable you will throttle yourself on your own belt before I am through with you."

Backing away from his former employer, Frank held up his index finger and said, "This isn't over, Sivana. You haven't heard the last of me."

With a chuckle dripping of disrespect, Adam countered, "Yes I have. Delilah, call security and have these dogs shown out." She nodded and immediately pressed a call button for building security. Adam closed the conference room door with a smile as Mr. Doggett hurled every obscenity he could think of toward his now former boss.

* * *

C.C. Batson pulled his car into the downtown offices of Metropolitan National in Fawcett City's financial district. He planned to ask the bank for a small loan. Billy's seventeenth birthday was coming up and he figured the best way to follow the doctor's advice on "getting out more" is to being able to drive on his own.

Following a concrete pathway between two shiny emerald patches of grass, he entered the building and stood next to the service desk. A portly young woman with fetching green eyes yet a scarlet blouse one size too small sat behind the desk. "Welcome to Metropolitan National, how can I help you?" she said in a disinterested tone. An arched brow formed on C.C.'s brow and he opened his mouth to respond.

All of a sudden, a redheaded man in a trench coat and business suit stood up, brandishing a nine-millimeter pistol. Without hesitation, he fired into the ceiling. Two police officers went to spring into action but they were both shot down by two other gunmen hiding amongst the customers in line. Two large gentlemen entered the front door of the bank. Wearing camouflage outfits with Kevlar vests and helmets and brandishing shotguns, no one would escape by them. C.C. got down on the floor. "Nobody moves!" shouted the trench coated man.

"Shut up! Shut the hell up or I start spraying brains!" shouted another gunman, this one wearing a janitor's uniform. One more gunman, wearing a jogger's sweat suit and sneakers leaped over the counter. He threw bank tellers onto the floor and said, "Get away from those buttons, bitches!!"

"Riley!" shouted the man in the trench coat, "Chances are they hit the button already and the cops are on their way. But that's alright. I've got everything under control."

"Whatever," the gunman said, looking at the scared bank tellers and shouting, "Get out there with the rest of them! Now! Move it!" As the frightened employees complied, the bank manager was dragged out from his office by Miles, the janitor gunman.

"Please," the elderly manager said, "Whatever you want, we'll give it to you, just don't hurt anyone else! Take as much money as you need!" Following that statement, Norris, the man in the trench coat, turned his gun and fired a precision shot between the old man's eyes.

"Do you think that if I can afford a suit like this that I need money?" Norris said with a smirk, "You'll find out our demands at the same time the police do."

C.C. heard the buzzing of his cell-phone, which attracted Norris's attention. One of the hulking shotgun wielders yanked him onto his feet. Holding C.C. up around the throat with a tree-trunk that passed for an arm, Norris searched for the cell-phone. Pulling it from the pocket, he flung the device across the lobby. As it smashed against the wall, Norris turned and backhanded C.C. in the face with his pistol.

C.C. dropped to floor in a heap while Norris turned to the rest of the people in the bank. "Any heroes left?" he said. Chuckling softly and with a smirk of self-confidence, he said, "Didn't think so."

* * *

Billy sat in front of his computer while the afternoon sun filled his bedroom with its radiance. He hummed "The Way We Were" while it played through his Ipod earphones. It was payback for two nights ago when Captain Marvel told Mary about Billy's secrets and slights against her. Barbara Streisand's incessant warbling echoed into the teenager's ears, making sure Cap heard every single note.

_AHHH!!!! I STILL SAY IT WAS WORTH IT!!!!_

"This hurts me more than it hurts you," the young man replied with a chuckle.

The music paused without the button being pressed. Wondering why the torment had ended so soon, Billy pushed play repeatedly, only to find that the music player was still on "play." Getting up from the chair, Billy walked to his bedroom window and pulled back the curtains. A red convertible with its top down was in the middle of the street. The driver appeared to be frozen in place, as if deciding whether or not to turn into the driveway. Billy recognized the driver to be Mr. Welker, the widower who always seemed to have a different date coming over every night. Why wasn't he turning into his house? Was he passing by it on the way somewhere else?

"Billy," an elderly but unmistakable voice said from behind the teenager. Billy jumped and turned to face Shazam. The ancient wizard, sporting his all white business suit and ponytail, walked toward the young man and said, "I have grave news. It involves your father. Within the next few seconds, your mother will come to you and tell you the details. But suffice to say, he and other innocent people are in terrible danger."

Billy's heart sank like a boulder in the ocean. The time to act had come and he was about to say the magic word. Shazam, said, "Wait! You must not let your mother become suspicious!"

The young man replied, "But, Sha---you…she's going to want to keep me in her sights and stay with her while the whole thing goes down! How will I get away from her and save dad?"

"You're a clever boy, you'll figure it out," the wizard said before vanishing in front of Billy's eyes.

"Wai-Wait!!!! HEY!!! GET BACK HERE!!!!" he shouted as his mother opened the door.

"Billy!" she said frantically, "Come downstairs, something's happened!"

In the living room, Marilyn and Billy watch the TV set as the local newscaster appeared. He said, "Good afternoon, I'm Sterling Morris with this breaking news story. Police reports of a hostage situation at Metropolitan National in downtown. The number of hostages is not yet known but according to on-sight reports, two officers have been critically wounded and the bank manager suffered a fatal gunshot to the head."

While the reported continued to talk, Marilyn shook her head and let her face drop into her hands. "What's happening to our family? First you get kidnapped and now this? Why is this happening?!" she cried out through her hands. Billy wished he could give her a clear answer.

Suddenly, the phone in the kitchen rang, jolting both mother and son nearly out of their skin. Billy got off the couch and answered the phone, "Hello?"

"Billy? What the hell are you doing at home?! Turn on the news!" Mary's frantic voice whispered.

"I already saw, but mom's here and I can't leave her! She's not going to want me to leave her side for a minute!"

"Well, you and your super alter-ego better think of something!"

"Wait," Billy paused for a second to think. He then inquired, "How did you know dad was at the bank?"

"Because he told mom and me he was going to take out a loan to buy you a car. Why he even bothers is a mystery to me, since you have superpowers and you're the worst driver I've ever seen."

"Can we not do this now?" he said with a whisper, "I've gotta save dad and those people without making mom suspicious!"

"Put her on the phone. I'll stay on the line and talk with her while you slip out. I'm on my way home from school right now. I'll look after her, now get going!"

"Mom?" Billy said, "It's Mary."

Marilyn hurried to the phone and grabbed it. "Mary? I know. I'm scared, too."

While the young man backed out of the room, he walked into the back yard through the sliding glass door and made sure he wasn't being watched. With a strong tone and shoulders back, he said, "Shazam."

* * *

C.C. woke up on the floor of the bank, staring at the boots of the behemoths in front of the main exit. Instinct told him to move and get his bearings, which caused Riley to drag him to his feet. "Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey," he said, shoving C.C. down on the floor with the other hostages.

"What do you want?" shouted a frightened woman from the crowd.

Norris smiled and scratched his shortly cropped red hair with his pistol. "I guess it's time everyone find out what I want, right boys?" His comrades nodded with enthusiastic approval. Pressing a button on the telephone at the front desk, everyone waited with baited breath at what the leader of the gunmen wanted.

"This is Riggs," a gruff, authoritative voice replied over the speaker phone.

"Officer Riggs?" Norris said, "I'm going to state my demand."

"I'm listening."

Norris sat on top of the desk and said, "I want the man who put my brother in jail."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My little brother, John, was out joyriding two nights ago. The police said he led them on a high speed chase and would've gotten away from them. That is, if some dope in red tights, gold boots and a white cape trashed his car. He nearly killed my brother and caused him to be sent to prison for grand theft auto. I want that man here and I want him here by the close of the business day. Otherwise, my associates and I will kill one hostage every hour on the hour."

"That's a tall order, my friend…" said the negotiator.

Norris leapt from the desk and said through gritted teeth, "I'm not your friend. Give me the dork in red, and you can have the hostages, the money, hell, I'll give myself up to you in a pretty little bow after I put a bullet in that asshole's head. All I want is him, anyway."

The crowd outside the bank fell silent and a frenzy of flashing lights as cameras all began to take multiple pictures. But Norris saw that the people all aimed their cameras up in the sky. The very man he described to the negotiator floated down from above at the front doors. "I'll call you back," he said, cutting off the negotiator's protests.

The lead gunman waved his twin human barricades away from the door, allowing Captain Marvel to enter untouched. Standing in front of Norris, he folded his rippled arms across his muscular chest, covering up the golden lightning bolt on his red costume. He said, "I'm surprised you let me in. Guess this means that you're ready to give up."

"Actually, yeah," Norris said, "But first thing's first. Are you the guy who sent my kid brother to jail?"

"Could be. I've been in town for a little while now. I'm sure I put away plenty of people's brothers."

Norris stepped right into Captain Marvel's face. With a disapproving snarl crawling along his lip, he said, "This was two nights ago, you jack-off. You totaled the car he was in and he got arrested because of you."

Without a single move forward or back, Captain Marvel replied, "No, he was arrested because he thought he could speed through the city, risking the lives of everyone on the road and get away with it."

"Just who do you think you are?"

With a smile brimming with confidence, the champion of justice replied, "I'm Captain Marvel. When you get to jail, tell your brother I said hello." A flash of anger streaked over Norris's face as he pulled his arm up to fire the 9mm into the hero's face. However, when the wrist came up, the hand was empty. The gun now resided in Captain Marvel's hand, which crushed the weapon like it was a piece of paper.

Within the next five seconds, Captain Marvel stripped all the gunmen of their guns and destroyed each weapon. He clutched Norris by the collar and tossed him into Riley, knocking both out. The two massive Kevlar wearing human tanks charged towards him. He threw up his palms and caught both men. Lifting them up with the greatest of ease, he threw them through the glass front doors, causing them to land on the pavement in front of the police.

The last gunman swung his fist into the hero's face, breaking his hand. He followed up by trying to kick him in the groin which only hurt his foot. In a desperate move, the criminal slammed his head into Captain Marvel's head. He succeeded in knocking himself out. "Idiot," said Shazam's mighty warrior as he looked over at the crowd. Extending his hand toward an elderly gentleman, he softly said, "It's over. It's alright now." He helped the man to his feet while the paramedics entered the building to check on the newly freed hostages.

Taking a quick peek to see that C.C. was getting medical attention, Captain Marvel turned to find an onslaught of microphones and cameras preventing him from leaving the scene.

_Congratulations, you just made yourself a celebrity. _

Captain Marvel stood paralyzed with the crowd of reporters and photographers asking him question after question. How did he fly? How did he throw those men so easily? Why was he wearing that ridiculous outfit? Beyond the reporters sat the police force. Their faces were a mixture of various emotions. He could tell some of the officers wanted to shake his hand. Others, however, would rather put him behind bars out of resentment for helping them fight the criminal element of Fawcett City.

The champion of Shazam managed to lightly nudge his way through. He took extra care not to injure anyone accidentally, lest someone get the wrong idea. Before the police could get a hold of him, he took off into the afternoon sky and vanished with only a sonic boom in his wake.

While in Adam's newly bought penthouse, Delilah curled up on a plush lavender sofa to watch the evening news. An image of a muscular, handsome man in red, white and gold came upon the screen. Delilah shrugged and said, "Hmm. Kinda cute, but not my type."

The reporter said, "In Fawcett City, Kansas, a strange hostage situation was made even stranger by the arrival of a man who, witnesses say, flew down from the sky and subdued the gunmen inside a branch of the Metropolitan National banking corporation. While strange occurrences have been taking place all over the United States, there is no evidence as of yet linking this incident to any others."

* * *

Adam turned his head toward the television screen and caught a look of the flying man. Quickly standing from his chair, he said, "It appears that the wizard's puppet is already on stage, dancing the dance of the protector. Go on then, pretender. Fake your way through defending the citizens from the forces of evil."

Delilah changed the channel after the story ended and turned toward her master. "That's the guy who's looking to take you out?"

"No," Adam said, leaning forward to meet her gaze, "That is the man who thinks he will replace me as ruler and protector of the mortal world. He bears the mark of the wizard. The lightning bolt on his chest, it's so blatantly obvious. The fool doesn't even try to deny he is that old man's attempt to erase the so-called mistake called Black Adam."

Standing up, the mighty former ruler walked to his balcony and stepped outside. Delilah kept herself inside, making her unable to hear Adam speak into the night, as if Shazam himself might be listening, "When it comes to fate, there are no mistakes."

To be continued…


	8. For my next trick

Ultimate Shazam: For my next trick…

Characters (Shazam, the Batson family, Black Adam and Ibis the Invincible) used in this story are property of DC comics.

Since the mysterious circumstances that befell Jefferson Coliseum, the city was hoping to have the work completed for the arrival of tonight's act. The cracked pavement and destroyed walls were repaired easily enough, though the seats had to be replaced completely. Little did the authorities know that a couple of months ago, Captain Marvel threw down with a rampaging robot, resulting in the damage. At the time, they still had no idea of his existence until he resolved a hostage situation three weeks ago.

The city officials hoped that the performer coming to Fawcett would be able to bring in a jam-packed audience. The public loved "Ibis the Invincible" and his death-defying magical stunt show. He had his own reality TV show for several months until he somehow got out of his contract, feeling people were trying to steal his ideas.

The posters outside the building and littering the walls showed a man in a full-face mask resembling fencing headgear. On top of his head is a purple turban with a shining blue jewel adorned in the center. Dressed in fine tuxedos and business suits, he separated himself from the more flamboyant vegas-style magicians and punk-rock street tricksters.

Billy Batson didn't seem all that impressed when he looked at the poster. He'd been standing in line with Mary for hours waiting to get inside. "I've been dying to get tickets to see Ibis live!" she said with schoolgirl delight, "You have no idea how hot Ibis is."

He let out a heaving sigh and let his eyes scan the crowd behind him. He said, "I've heard about the shows and everything. To be honest, I should find this amusing and ironic, but really I just can't believe you're into this kind of thing."

"I would figure a boy who has his own person magical big brother would get a kick out of this."

Billy closed his eyes and muttered, "You would figure Brad Pitt having a facial tic that caused him to wink at you meant that he's ready to make Angelina Jolie the next Jennifer Aniston and you the next Angelina Jolie."

Mary shrugged, replying, "A girl can dream, can't she?"

After standing long, tedious lines to not only enter the building, but to buy snacks and use the restroom, Billy and Mary took their seats in the newly rebuilt stadium floor. With an uncanny sense of recollection, Billy remembered where Mr. Atom had punted Captain Marvel into the nosebleed section, as well as where the hero had slammed the robot into the concrete floor.

* * *

The lights of the main stadium immediately shut off, causing hundreds of people in the crowd to scream in fright. Thinking almost immediately that something went wrong; Billy sprang up and prepared to shout his magic word until a lone spotlight shined on the stage.

Ibis was every bit as handsome as the posters indicated. Adorned in a black silk tuxedo which looked more dashing than it looked expensive, he strolled along the stage with a crystal ball-handled cane in hand. "Forgive the theatrics, ladies and gentlemen," he said with a luscious baritone, "but it's all part of the show." Billy considered vomiting after hearing not only Mary, but almost every girl in the audience collectively swooning.

A dazzling young blonde in a blue one-piece bikini stepped onto the stage. Sparkling sequins covered her heaving bosom while her golden locks remained captive in beguiling hairpins reflecting the bright lights of the main auditorium. "My assistant, Fiona, ladies and gentlemen," Ibis said, with an arm extended. Television monitors along the roof showed her stunning beauty to the entire crowd. Raising his cane into the air, a cape dropped from within it and covered the girl from sight. Within a split second, he removed the cape, simultaneously removing his assistant from the stage. The crowd gasped and clapped. Ibis held up his hand to pause the applause. Then, he pointed his cane toward the upper level, showing the very same beautiful woman sitting next to a smiling young boy and his pleasantly surprised father.

The crowd erupted into applause for the well-dressed magician. Billy admitted to himself that that was one hell of an illusion. Ibis then adjusted his suit and said, "For my next trick, I am going to need a volunteer. I'd like to ask every person in the auditorium to check underneath their seats, please. If you happen to find an autographed picture of me with a friend of mine, please hold it up so the spotlight operator can see you. Please note that the picture is completely different than any you may have purchased in the gift shop."

While Mary frantically searched the bottom of her seat, Billy sat still in his chair, unwilling to play along. As a minute passed, it was clear no one had found the picture. The young host to Shazam's champion looked around and saw people puzzled and scrambling to see if the picture was underneath their seats, but none said a word. Looking toward the stage, Ibis's eyes caught Billy's. It seemed as though the magician was staring straight at him. It unnerved the young man to say the least. But, the stare-down also seemed to pique his interest. He didn't need Solomon to tell him there was more than met the eye.

Reaching underneath his chair, Billy pulled out a photograph of Ibis shaking hands with none other than the wizard Shazam himself. Sweat raining down his brow, Mary caught her brother's ghastly expression and said, "Billy? What's wrong?"

"He knows," was all the young man had to say for Mary to snatch the picture out of his hand.

"Who's that guy?" Mary whispered, pointing to Shazam.

"The wizard."

Mary's eyes grew wide as she asked, "You mean--"

"Yeah," he said, knowing that he can't say the wizard's name aloud.

"You sure that's not Ian McKellen?" she said with a short laugh.

"I think he wants to talk to me," Billy said, holding up the photograph. Ibis, seeing that Billy had received his message, grinned from ear to ear. The crowd let out a massive groan with a begrudging applause. As he made his way down the ramp toward the stage, curiosity mixed with nervousness as the young man was helped onto the platform.

Ibis shook Billy's hand after the stage hands led him onto the stage. With that kind baritone ever comforting, the magician said, "Thank you for being such a fantastic sport, young man. May I have your name please?"

"Billy," he replied, trying to play along with the charade.

"Now, what we are going to do is something I like to call, 'Time in a box.'" I'm going to place the young man inside the life-sized container Fiona is bringing out." Sure enough, as Billy turned to his right, the sparkling young assistant was rolling out a six-foot by four foot box before the stadium audience.

Ibis continued his explanation, "Now, notice that this young man has a watch on his arm. You came with this, right?"

Billy nodded in response, "Yes, sir."

"Can you tell me the current time, son?"

"It's 9:30," he replied curtly, wanting to get on with whatever Ibis had planned.

"I believe you," the performer said, "What I am going to do is ask Billy to step into the box." As he complied with the request, Ibis held open the door with one hand while twirling his cane with the other. He continued, saying, "When I close this door, I will open it once more within the very second that I have closed it. Now, there is a reason that I call this 'Time in a box.' I shall now show you by shutting the door." With that said, Ibis shut the door, at the same time slamming the tip of his cane into the stage floor.

Darkness enveloped Billy for only the most infinitesimal of seconds. Ibis then opened the door and clutched at the young man's arm. Pulling him out, Ibis said, "You and I need to speak in private. I figured this would be the best way."

Billy noticed that the crowd was dead silent. Upon further inspection he saw that they were still, as well. Within a split second, Ibis turned the entire audience into a coliseum full of living statues. "So, how long have you known Shazam?" said the sorcerer.

Breaking from his amazement at the frozen audience, Billy replied, "I think the question is how long YOU have known him."

"Fair enough," he said, "When next you see him, ask him if they ever gave him a patent on that 'bicycle' idea. He'll know who it's from."

With an exasperated sigh, Billy flailed his arms and said, "So, what's the deal, pal? Did you come to town just to bust my chops on the old man's behalf?"

The well-dressed wizard arched his left brow then said, "No, young man. I am in town because I need your help."

"Okay, that's better. With what?"

"Someone has been stealing priceless jewels from every town I have entered since the start of my tour. The authorities, sensing a pattern, have deemed my show somewhat of a connecting factor. I don't think they're far off."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Well, you? Not a thing, kid. I need your better half."

_Go ahead, Billy. Say the magic word._

With the approval of Captain Marvel ringing in his mind, young Billy

Batson took in a deep breath and said, "Shazam."

The lightning sparkled from within the teenager's body then instantaneously enveloped him. When the sparks and brightness faded, the red white and gold clad champion of Shazam stood tall.

"My," Ibis said, grinning from ear to ear, "That was dramatic. I have to say, Shazam didn't have half the fashion sense you do, my friend."

"Hey," Captain Marvel said, towering over Ibis just slightly, "you wanted to talk. Let's talk."

"It always has to be straight to the point. That's the problem with you champion types. Always focused on the mission at hand and when it's done, you wait around for the next one, pacing like a tiger in a cage. Only this time, the cage is a high-school kid. You never just stop and smell the roses once in a while."

"Probably because when we stop, something big and evil tends to come and burn them all down."

"Whether the glass is half full or half empty, the thirsty man doesn't care."

Taken aback by the statement, Captain Marvel threw up his hands and said, "Okay, this conversation's over, Sha—"

"Wait!" Ibis pleaded, grabbing at the champion's white cape. "I have the suspicion someone in my employ is behind the robberies. The only problem is whoever is doing it is perpetrating the robberies during my shows. I thought you and I could scan the skies while I've stopped time and find out who the culprit is."

Captain Marvel nodded, replying, "Sure. I'll do a quick run of every high-end jewelry store and see where the thieves are striking."

"Very well, up up and…you know." Ibis said, putting his arm around Shazam's champion and newfound partner.

Captain Marvel gave the purple turban adorned wizard a look of annoyance. Grabbing Ibis by the scruff of his finely pressed suit he said, "Hang on tight." As they took flight, Ibis twirled his cane above their heads, creating a portal in the ceiling of the coliseum. Through the newly made exit, the hero and the sorcerer took to the night sky towards downtown.

* * *

Fawcett City traffic beneath the airborne adventurers remained at a literal standstill. Intersection lights remained forever paused in green, red or yellow. Crossing cars in the middle of the intersection didn't budge an inch.

"So, I gotta know," Captain Marvel said, "How do you…"

"Stay so young and vital? It's a well kept secret."

_Wanna bet?_

Billy's voice chimed in the mind of the hero. "Try again," Marvel commented.

Ibis turned to face his makeshift pilot and said with a stern tone, "It's none of your business. We're supposed to be looking for the thieves. Besides, you wouldn't understand."

Captain Marvel looked away and said, "Whatever you say."

From deep in his brain, the hero heard the young man's voice say, _I'll tell you later. He's right. We need to focus._

As Ibis and Captain Marvel made their way through town, they heard a crashing sound. "Okay," said the red white and gold wonder, "That isn't supposed to happen, is it?"

Ibis's eyes narrowed, knowing that the thieves had just revealed themselves. He replied, "No. It isn't." Following the sound of the noise, they spotted a black sedan coursing through the streets. The vehicles passed cars as though they stood still; because they did.

"Okay, how…" Captain Marvel tried to ask.

"Good question." Ibis replied. As they swooped closer, Ibis took a look at the model name of the vehicle. The word "ODARODLE" left him dumbstruck until he recognized the Pontiac logo. The well-dressed wizard's eyes lit up in revelation. "Wait until the car is alone on the road, and then land in front of it."

"I could swoop in and pick up the…" he protested.

Ibis shouted, "Would you just do it?!"

"Alright, alright," the hero replied, keeping pace with the vehicle. After following for an hour within the split second that time stood still, the Pontiac headed across downtown toward Jefferson Coliseum. Soaring ahead, Captain Marvel landed thirty yards away, putting Ibis on the pavement.

Captain Marvel looked toward Ibis, holding his cane out in front of him, resting the tip on the ground. "You'd better be right about this," he said. Nodding, Ibis stood on the side of the road. The World's Mightiest Mortal braces himself, planting his feet on the pavement. The vehicle plowed its way toward the red white and gold hero.

At the last minute, Captain Marvel thrust his palms forward, colliding with the grill of the Pontiac. The men inside were propelled against the windshield. Looking with curious eyes, Ibis and Captain Marvel noticed neither the car, nor the passengers were injured. In fact, all four exited the car and approached the men standing in their way. A fifth, smaller person remained in the car.

"Okay, this is weird," Shazam's champion said, while two of the mystery men approached him.

Ibis never flinched from his stance as the other two thieves purposefully strode his way. Using his cane, he deflected a right cross from one thug. He then twisted the man's arm around. Stepping around, Ibis flipped him onto his back. Throwing a reverse kick to the other one, he felt his foot thud against the thug's impossibly hard abdomen. The blow did nothing to slow him down. Pressing the cane against the attacker's throat, he pushed backwards, and then dropped down. While the momentum carries the thug forward, Ibis raised his foot, flipping him over as well.

As the sorcerer rose to his feet, he noticed his attackers had risen as well. They appeared to be extremely resilient. With a twirl of his cane, a powerful gust of wind hurled the men through the air. Their bodies violently crashed to the pavement. But as abruptly as they landed, the assailants got to their feet and charged Ibis once more.

Captain Marvel sidestepped a punch from another assailant, using a light shove and his own momentum to propel him into the air. The figure rolled to a stop twenty feet away. The second connected with a left cross to the jaw. Captain Marvel's brow arched. He couldn't explain it, but the fist that struck him didn't feel like flesh. Another odd fact was that for about fifteen seconds more, his attacker kept hitting him. The strength behind each blow seemed at an average human level. However, had this man been human, his hands would be mangled grotesqueries of bone and flesh.

Tiring of having his invulnerable face and torso attacked by equally invulnerable fists, Captain Marvel threw a light shove to the attacker, propelling him into an empty sidewalk bench. Thinking the danger over, he turned his attention to the fifth person in the car.

The first attacker he disposed of wrapped his arms around Captain Marvel, with an inhuman vise grip. Exerting a minor effort, the caped hero shrugged off the embrace, sending the man onto his back. Grabbing him by the ankle, he swung him like a club against his approaching comrade, sending them both back to the sidewalk. Surely that would end their annoyance.

But it was not to be. Both men stood up like nothing had happened. "Okay, what the hell are these guys?" inquired Captain Marvel. Suddenly, Billy's voice resounded in the hero's head.

_Look over at the windows!_

Obeying the teenage voice in his mind, the red, white and gold champion turned his gaze to the glasses in the area. Through squinted eyes, he saw that the only men appearing in the street are him and Ibis, who appeared to be avoiding strikes from absolutely nothing.

_Solomon says they're mirroroids; animated duplicates of real people. They don't talk, they don't feel pain. Their skins are hard like unbreakable glass. The only ways to beat them are to shove them into a reflective surface which sends them back to the mirror world or remove any and all reflective surfaces from the immediate area. _

"Ibis!" shouted Captain Marvel, "What do you know about Mirroroids?"

Ibis, sidestepping a punch, exclaimed, "I suspected as much! The words on the Pontiac are reversed! Of course, it explains why they keep coming and we're getting fatigued!"

"What do you mean 'we?'" inquired Shazam's champion as two of them try to tackle him to the ground. "You're wasting your time, fellas," he said, throwing them off easily. They soared towards the windows of nearby buildings, only to disappear once they reached the glass.

Ibis held out his hand and an invisible concussive force carried one of the assailants into a window, making him disappear. The second one, however, strikes down Ibis's arm, then backhands the sorcerer to the ground. With in a second, Captain Marvel zips between the strange being and his prey. Rearing his fist back, he drives a full-force uppercut into the mirroroids jaw. The force of the blow sends the attacker flying into the night sky, vanishing from sight due to lack of reflective surfaces.

Helping his ally to a standing position, Captain Marvel said, "Guess he had a glass jaw."

"Funny," Ibis replied, "Now, go and get that last one."

With a quick rush, he opened the car doors then pulled out the final culprit. Yanking off the mask, he saw nothing but his own face staring back at him through a mirror-like head. With a light chuckle, Captain Marvel commented, "Figures. Whoever created this one must've been the ringleader. I noticed none of the others wore masks, so they would've been caught on camera."

Ibis looked up and down along the figure's frame, studying and taking it all in. With a snap of his fingers, he said, "I know who it is. And if I am right, our culprit is still at the coliseum. Let us dispose of these first, then we shall make our way back to the show." Ibis shoved the smaller mirroroid back into the vehicle. Then, Captain Marvel lifted the mirror-car and tossed it into the air to make them both disappear.

With the hero having a tight grip on the cane-wielding sorcerer, he took to the skies toward Jefferson Coliseum and the key to the case.

* * *

Appearing through another portal in the ceiling, the hero and the sorcerer swooped into the coliseum. Landing on the stage, Ibis regained his bearings while Captain Marvel put his hands on his hips. With an impatient tone, he said, "Okay, House, time for the big revelatory scene. Who's our thief?"

Wincing at the reference, Ibis responded, "It was someone who's had access to magical knowledge. Only a very select few in my crew know that I am actually a sorcerer. The mirroroids can only cross into this plane of existence through an item known as the 'Alice shard.' Like…"

Captain Marvel interrupted by saying, "'Through the looking glass', got it."

Ibis continued, saying, "The shard's last known location was in New York City, where we started this year's national tour. That was when the first of the robberies took place. It, along with millions of dollars worth in diamonds, platinum and gold jewelry were stolen from Sachs Fifth Avenue. In each town items of gold, platinum and diamond were stolen."

"No cash from the register was taken? Only the jewels?" Captain Marvel asked.

"Correct," Ibis replied, to which he stepped over to his time-frozen assistant, Fiona.

_Wow, she sure is sparkly, isn't she? Hint hint._

Billy's sarcastic and emphatic statement chimed in Captain Marvel's head, causing him to blurt out, "Yeah. She does look exceptionally sparkly tonight."

Ibis nodded and said, "I'll confront her and call the police once the show is over. I assure you. Now, with the case closed, I suppose you should get back in the box."

Captain Marvel replied, "Alrighty. Nice working with you. Sha…" before he could finish, the red white and gold champion spotted that Fiona's bustier was lower than usual. The exposed flesh underneath seemed to attract his attention. Walking over toward her, Ibis looked on in puzzlement. He reached out for the cloth to pull it down.

"What are you doing?" Ibis said, "Have you lost your…" Captain Marvel pulled down the woman's bustier, showing not her magnificent breasts, but the hero's own reflection from the chest down. "She's a mirroroid? But when did she have time to change?"

"In case, you hadn't noticed," a feminine voice called out, shocking the two men on stage, "I've had plenty of time." Fiona stepped out, wearing a stage technician's uniform and a baseball cap. Pulling off the cap, she said, "Surprised? Heh, don't be. I used the shard to step out of this plane temporarily while you did your 'Time in a box' trick. You can't pull a fast one on me, old man."

"Old man?" Ibis replied, aiming his cane at Fiona. In a commanding tone, he said, "My dear, I can remember exactly what I had for breakfast when Shakespeare debuted A Midsummer Night's Dream. I'm far past old. Now, give me the Alice shard."

"You mean, this shard?" the lovely assistant flashed the mirror toward Captain Marvel.

"Look out! Don't let it catch your reflection!" Ibis warned.

Before he could react, Captain Marvel found his eyes looking directly at his own reflection. However, it seemed to emerge from the palm-sized glass in Fiona's hand. Growing as it approached, the hero stared down a reversed version of himself. His insignia was turned backwards and his cape hung around the opposite shoulder.

Holding a fighting stance, he said, "Shouldn't be a problem."

Ibis shouted, "You dolt! You don't understand! The mirroroids are the exact duplicate of the person they're reflected in. They have their likeness, mannerisms and in your case…" Before Ibis could finish, Shazam's champion felt his doppleganger's fist driven directly into his face. The force sent him flying through the air toward the heavily populated nosebleed section.

Using split second timing and altering his own momentum, the guardian of Fawcett City turned away from the crowd before coming to a stop. "It has my powers," Captain Marvel concluded Ibis's warning. Dashing toward his opponent, he connected with a sharp right hook, knocking it off its feet. It skidded across the stage, leaving massive imprints before getting up.

Fiona held out the shard at Captain Marvel, attempting to create another duplicate. But with a jolt of telekinetic power, it flew from her hand and shattered on the ground. She said, "When you hired me, I worked in dive clubs, doing card tricks for idiotic hicks on the street. But after you took me on, I was introduced to real magic. I want to take my show on the road. The heists were simply for funding. Plus, I like to shine when I'm on stage. Something you'll never do again after I'd have ruined your career by using a duplicate of you for the finale show in San Francisco where you get caught on tape during one of the robberies."

"I take you in, train you in the ways of illusion and this is how you repay me?" he replied, holding out his cane, calling cables on the stage to coil around her body like a plastic anaconda, restraining her. "You should've tried this with David Blaine."

"You think that shard's the only trick I have up my sleeve?" Fiona said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Please tell me you didn't use that line on a sorcerer," Ibis said with an arched brow.

"Rouy Taorht sesolc!!" shouted the young woman. Ibis suddenly felt his airways restrict tight. Grasping at his neck, he dropped to his knees. The magical restraints holding the assistant in midair fell apart, letting her land on her feet. Fiona charged forward and swung a kick against Ibis's hand, kicking his cane away.

"C'mon, thought you'd be more of a challenge than this!" she shouted, driving a knee into Ibis's face. He drove his palm against her chest, knocking the wind out of her lungs. Fighting to breathe, he held out his hand, letting the cane float to his hand. Tapping his throat with the transparent crystal handle, he managed to undo the backwards worded curse.

Taking in a deep breath, Ibis gasped out, "So…I see…you steal other tricks as well…Zatara won't like this when he finds out."

"He never will, because you'll never tell him!" Fiona screamed.

"Quiet, you!" Ibis said holding out his cane. A beam of light surged into her mouth. Within seconds it retracted back into the crystal. Try as she might, the words she meant to speak backwards never came out. She thrashed about, silently screaming her rage to all who couldn't hear. "Every magic has its flaw; whether it's the shard, my cane, or your ill-begotten spell casting," he said. Fiona, desperate to exact revenge, threw a fist toward Ibis's face. He sidestepped and tapped her on the head with the crystal tip while saying, "Nighty-night." She drifted into unconsciousness, leaving him to catch her with his free arm.

Captain Marvel wished he could make it look that easy as his mirroroid doppelganger drove its fist into his jaw. Blocking another punch, the hero threw a left cross into his opponent's stomach. Following up with an elbow into the back, Captain Marvel locked his arms behind the being in a full nelson. Pulling upward, he flew high above the stage, crashing through the ceiling.

The creature struggled and strained at being pulled away from any reflective surfaces. However, it still maintained its physical structure, despite no glass or windows around to give it any kind of power. Baffled by this turn of events, Captain Marvel loosened his grip enough for the duplicate to break free.

It wrapped its hands, every bit as powerful as Captain Marvel's, around his throat, squeezing the air from his lungs. Shazam's champion tried to roll his right arm around to break the grip, to no avail. He then backhanded the mirroroid, trying to get it to release him.

_Eyes are the WINDOW to the soul. Get it?_

Despite the condescension in Billy's voice, Captain Marvel did, in fact, get it. Shutting his eyes tightly, he removed the only reflective surface that still kept the mirroroid connected to this world. The grip on his throat was gone, as was the doppelganger. He then flew back down to the coliseum through the hole he made. Ibis held out his cane, making the debris float upward to repair the damage done. He took the time to repair the stage as well, making the skid marks from where the mirroroid Captain Marvel fell vanish without a trace.

"Well, that takes care of that," Ibis said, twirling his cane in satisfaction.

"Yeah, guess so," Captain Marvel replied, "So, you never did tell me what the deal was with you? How you managed to survive all this time?"

Ibis's face went from smiling to stern in less than a second. He turned away and said, "I told you, you wouldn't understand."

_He's what's known as a legacy wizard._

"What?" Captain Marvel said, "What's a legacy wizard?" Ibis's ears perked at the mention of the word.

_Some wizards or sorcerers have methods with which to cheat death or prolong it for as long as possible. Some make Faustian deals; others transform into fundamental elements of magic. A legacy wizard is someone who passes their knowledge, power and memories to an heir or apprentice. Ibis has done this since the times of Cleopatra and the like. He has a child, with whom he grooms and trains until either the heir is ready or the current Ibis is killed._

"So, in essence…they're pretty much forced into this life?" Captain Marvel inquired.

"Of course not," Ibis sternly reprimanded, "Each Ibis that is brought into this world is different. Before I train my heirs, I ask them repeatedly if this is the path they want to travel. I have had many children who declined and have lost them to time. That's the sick joke of immortality; your loved ones tend to die all around you. But every Ibis who has accepted did so of his own free will.

"Some were heroic. Some wasted the birthright on riches and fortune. I fall somewhere in between. I prefer to leave the forces of evil to guardian types like you. I don't know about you but I don't want to make a habit out of fighting for my life. But should the time come when my services are required, and I cannot stress that last word enough, then I shall do whatever I can."

"I suppose that's all I can ask next time I need a favor," Captain Marvel said.

Ibis sighed and shook his head, replying, "Yes, I suppose I do indeed owe you one for helping me out. Try not to waste it, though. Another thing I don't make a habit of is being indebted to others."

"Don't worry, I'll try to save it for a rainy day," replied the hero, "Now, can we get this night over with already?"

"Ah, yes, right," he said, "Go on and do your thing and get into the box. Time will restart."

"Shazam!" yelled Captain Marvel. The lightning surged around him and then faded back into Billy Batson. The young man stepped into the box. Ibis shut the door, tapping his cane onto the ground once more. As instantaneously as it shut, time began to move forward once more. The crowd's gasps shattered the silence and thousands of statues that looked like people moved in varying motions.

Ibis flung the door open in the same second he closed it. Billy stepped out, heading straight for Ibis who held out his hand. "Alright, let us see, what do we have here…The time according to his watch is 10:00! Time for him has accelerated a half hour while a mere second has passed outside the box! Let's give the young gentleman a hand for being such a sport!" The crowd roared its approval as Ibis patted the young man on the back.

* * *

With another show finished, Ibis returned to his hotel room at the Fawcett City Hilton. Upon entering his master suite, he set down his cane and stretched his arms. Walking into a massive bathroom, he splashed water onto his face and dried off. Exiting the bathroom, he saw a tall, tanned man of exquisite musculature. His neatly pressed black suit with a lightning bolt insignia stitched into the lapels clued him in to the man's identity. "I see, Ibis, that you too like to use your knowledge to acquire the finer things," said Adamtutamen-Teth.

"I should've figured the old boy couldn't escape the abyss without you," Ibis replied, slowly walking toward the mini-bar.

"What can I say," Adam replied, "I'm a very hard person to get rid of."

Ibis lent an admiring look at the owner of Wizard Communications. Scanning his wardrobe the sorcerer said, "I will say this, you do have a flair for style."

"Tell me, how many lives have you lived now?"

"Enough to know that a house call from you means you want something."

Adam matched the sorcerer's steps to the mini-bar, saying, "The centuries have made you wise. Then I'll come right out and say it. I want you out of Fawcett City by sunrise."

"Or you'll what, round up a posse and hang me at high noon?" he said, reaching for a bottle of vodka.

Within the tick of a second, Adam crossed a ten foot gap, lifting Ibis up by his throat. He held out his left hand, calling for his cane. But as it flew toward him, Adam clutched his left wrist, making him cry out in pain. The cane fell in mid flight on the floor. Ibis held up his right hand, willing the cane to fly into his grip. He pressed the crystal end to Adam's chest.

The finely-dressed man was sent hurtling backward, turning over furniture and through the door, ripping it off its hinges. Ibis stood, his cane extended ready to fight with one arm cradled inward, nursing his broken left wrist. Adam dusted the debris from the door off of his suit and said, "Consider yourself exiled from Fawcett City, Ibis. If I ever see you within its limits again, cane or no cane, I WILL kill you."

Shaking from the pain coursing through his wrist, the sorcerer said, "I'll stay out. But know this, Teth. Ibis repays his debts."

Ibis watched, his weapon at the ready, as Adam walked away from the destroyed doorway. For a split second, Ibis prayed Captain Marvel would ask him for help in vanquishing that arrogant would-be despot. But the pain surging through him made him rethink that position. Rubbing his left wrist with his the crystal on the cane, the bones began to mend. The healing process, however, was not painless. While the sinews and flesh repaired themselves, Ibis gritted his teeth in agony. He took the cane off of his wrist, working his fingers and turning his hand. After assuring himself of the use of his hand, he applied the same magic as before repairing the damaged furniture and doorway.

To be continued…


	9. A Soul Untouched Part 1

Ultimate Shazam: A Soul Untouched: Part 1

Captain Marvel, Captain Nazi, Spy Smasher, Freddy Freeman and the Batson family are property of DC Comics.

The infinite darkness in an empty parking lot gave way to the high beams of a large black van. Screeching to a halt in front of the Armstrong Museum of American History, five occupants all dressed in black from head to toe filed out onto the pavement. All but two men, both wearing masks, stayed in the front seats while the others made their way towards the building. One of the men pulled out a brick and hurled it at the front window. The glass shattered, causing an alarm to erupt, destroying the silence of the night.

Kicking away the rest of the glass, the men flooded into the main foyer. From their belts, the masked marauders pulled out retractable nightsticks. With shouts of violent glee, they swung their weapons into the displays and exhibits. One of the men kicked down a statue of Martin Luther King Jr. while others stomped on the remains. Another swung a baton into the face of George Washington. A replica of the chair Martha Washington sat in while creating the American Flag was hurled through the air into a 1920's automobile windshield, cracking it.

Making their way to the World War II exhibits, the maelstrom of aggression seemed to be more frugal with its targets. They smashed a mannequin of Franklin Roosevelt, throwing it against a wall. One man went to urinate on a model replica of the attack on Pearl Harbor but was stopped when another shouted, "You let one drop hit the ground I swear I'll break your neck right here! We can't have them tracing anything back to us!"

A glass container sat on top of a podium in the middle of the room held a metallic swastika the size of a silver dollar. One of the men smashed the glass box and swiped the item. After kicking over the podium, he whirled his hand in a "Wrap it up" motion. As quickly as they came, the vandals sprinted away. Filing into the van, the vehicle sped off into the night as sirens approached from the distance.

The men pulled off their masks, revealing a crop of bald Caucasian teenagers. The driver removed his mask as well, looking to his passenger and saying, "We did it, Herr Krieger. We have the talisman."

Removing his mask, the passenger revealed himself to be an elderly man. His shortly cropped white hair clumped onto its scalp. Taking in a deep breath, he smiled and held out his hand. "Give it to me," he said with eyes like a child desperately wanting a cherished toy. A teen handed it to him quickly. Krieger stared, entranced at the small swastika. "After all these years," his thick German accent whispered out, "Once again you're mine, my beloved."

"So," the driver inquired while pulling onto the highway, "When does the fun begin? When do we make them pay?"

Krieger's eyes targeted the driver, thick with resentment for interrupting his tender reunion with the love of his life. "I will need a volunteer. Search the streets for a…suitable candidate."

* * *

After two hours of rollerblading at Hamilton Skate 'N Go, Billy Batson took off his pair of rental skates. A visible scrape was on his lip from when he face-planted against the rink floor. Another cut was on his blue jeans from skidding to a halt on his knees. The halt finally came when he wish-boned his groin against a railing. Freddy Freeman, Billy's best friend and fellow schoolmate, laughed at each pitiful attempt Billy made to rollerblade effectively.

It was embarrassing to say the least, in Billy's mind. One would think that someone who could competently use a skateboard as a means of travel could also master having separate sets of wheels under both feet. Freddy's laughter and Billy's numerous pratfalls seemed to argue against the assumption.

"Bro," Freddy chuckled, "stick with the board. Do us and yourself a favor."

_He's got a point, kid. _

"Ah, shaddap," Billy muttered under his breath.

"What?"

"I said shut up, dude," Billy replied, "I'm embarrassed enough as it is."

Freddy extended a hand and helped Billy to his unsteady feet. Walking him over to the bench, he said, "Hey, we came out to have a good time. Did you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did have fun. I'll probably not remember it tomorrow from wanging my head on the floor, and the rail, and that metal support beam."

Freddy's eyes drifted until they caught a lovely redhead standing at the concession counter. "Hey Billy," he said, "Check that girl out."

Leaning his eyes over to spy the same fiery-mane maiden, he replied, "You going to try and initiate 'KINO' with her?"

"Okay, dude…you've been watching way too much VH1," Freddy said.

"Fine, oh great stealer of women's hearts," Billy laughed, "Show me, a mere mortal, how the gods attain a girl's phone number."

"Very well, then. Careful, though, feasting your eyes on such a glorious thing as my picking up of women has been known to cause the mind to shatter."

"So then you're the Cthulu of dating?"

In pretend pomposity, Freddy stood and pointed his finger at Billy, saying, "Mock not that which you don't comprehend! I shall show you now!" The young men could barely contain their laughter as Freddy approached the beautiful redhead.

The beauty that Freddy's steps took him toward wore tight jeans with a small t-shirt provocatively clinging to her chest, baring her midriff. She didn't seem bony or petite like any of the other girls in the skating rink. He stopped at the counter right beside her. Turning her head, she let a small smile show, "Hi. Is that Billy Batson?"

The left field flung question staggered the once-cocky young man. "Y-yeah, that's him," he stuttered, "But I was…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a kind look, "You were trying to pick me up and I totally blew past you and saw your friend. That was incredibly insensitive of me. I'm sorry; I'm not very good at flirting, really."

"Okay, now I'm confused," Freddy said, taking a couple of steps back.

Writing on a napkin with a pen from her purse, she said, "Look, here's my number. Give it to him and tell him Abigail said hi. He'll know who it is. But, you know, if he doesn't seem interested, you can give me a call then."

Abigail's red hair bounced off her shoulders while she walked away. Freddy turned around with the number in hand. Billy walked up toward his friend and said, "Wow. You weren't there for thirty seconds and you came away with her number?"

"Actually, I think this one's all yours, bro," Freddy replied, patting him on the shoulder. Returning their skates to the holding counter, the two friends made their way out of the Skate-N-Go and into the parking lot. They rounded the corner to the 1986 red Chrysler Lebaron C.C. had bought Billy a couple of months ago.

To say that the car was a fixer-upper would be a gross understatement. The ceiling vinyl had holes torn out, exposing the soft cushion underneath. The interior seats reeked of an odor Billy wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know about. Three tree shaped air fresheners adorned the smudged and not entirely functional rear view mirror. The only good thing about the car was that its previous owner cherished great gas mileage over appearances. A full tank going back and forth to school, a distance of about thirty miles in total lasted almost two weeks.

Billy looked over at his best friend and said, "Hey Freddy. You anxious for the Black History Month celebration at school?"

Freddy shined a wide, bright smile of pride, "You know it, dude. It's going to be tight. It's going to be so cool to see all the other kids there. I'm glad you decided to help out, man."

Billy nodded, "Yeah. It's too bad assholes like those skinheads aren't buying into the notion of celebrating." Unlocking and opening his driver's side door, Billy said, "You should be excited; your dad is one of the guest speakers."

After the passenger's door is unlocked, Freddy entered the car, replying, "Yeah. So mom and I made him promise no conspiracy theories or anything like that." Billy let out a brief laugh and began to turn the key into the ignition.

The windshield exploded inward, raining glass on the occupants of the car. Billy didn't have time to say a word as his window burst toward him, spraying him with glass. Scratches and cuts covered his skin as hands grabbed him by his hair. His face was introduced to the steering wheel three times before he was pulled out of the window.

"Billy!" Freddy screamed right before his door was flung open. Two masked assailants clutched at him. Raising his foot, he kicked one in the face. The other caught his ankles and pulled hard. Freddy's body slid off the seat and he hit the pavement face first. They pulled the young man to his feet and proceeded to punch him in the stomach while the other held him.

As two more pulled Billy out of his driver's side window, another ran forward and swung a mighty punt into his stomach, making him double over, screaming in pain as he hit the pavement. Pulling him to his feet, they hurled him against the brick side of the Skate-N-Go, his body slumping.

_Billy! Billy, wake up! You have to say Shazam! Come on! _

Captain Marvel's cries fell on deaf ears and semi-conscious mind as the young host to Fawcett City's champion struggled to get to his feet. His efforts were thwarted by a knee smashing into his head, making his skull smack against the brick wall. He faintly heard the masked brute shout, "Stay down, bitch!" He slumped over with his eyes open while blood trickling down the back of his head, nose, and forehead.

_Billy!!!!_

Desperate to get to Billy, Freddy viciously head-butted one of the masked men. The other men, five in total, all in masks, swarmed him like bees. Punches rained down upon him, and kicks swung hard against his stomach and face. His head began to swim until he was brought to his feet. They were carrying him somewhere. A van pulled screeching into the parking lot. The side door opened and an old man knelt in the vehicle's spacious interior. Tearing open his shirt, Freddy's stomach became the temporary sheath to a knife. As his life fluid poured out, he noticed there was something being held next to his wound.

"Dearest love, feed my hatred!" the old man spoke. Suddenly, a smile of pure evil crawled across his wrinkled face. As abruptly as the attack began, however, Freddy noticed that the old man quickly began to look younger. The clock turned back at a lightning pace for the elderly knife-wielder. Gray hair within seconds turned into neatly cropped blond strands. A body frail from the ravages of time became instantly strong, youthful and handsome. The masked accomplices watched in awe as he then shoved Freddy into the air, sending him flying thirty feet into the brick side of the Skate-N-Go, landing next to Billy's body.

"Want to make sure they're dead, sir?" said one of the masked men, pulling out a gun.

"No," the old man replied, "The message has been sent. Armstrong will come, no doubt. He will try to reclaim you, my love. But all he will do is fail and die."

"Then we get to make all them burn?" another said enthusiastically entering the van.

With a sigh bordering on annoyance, the old man said, "Albrecht Krieger does not break his promises. We will rain down our justice upon the unwashed hordes."

Billy saw the van pulling away and with his last bit of conscious strength, muttered under his breath, "Sh…Sha…" the magic word faded from his lips as did his consciousness.

* * *

Eighty-eight year old Alan Armstrong stood outside the entrance to his museum. Looking down, he spotted the glass littering the front doorway and the carpeting. Stepping through the door, he walked methodically through the foyer, surveying the damage. A police officer walked to Alan and said, "Mr. Armstrong, we've talked to your assistant. She told us you had just opened up shop a few months ago, is that right?"

Nodding, he replied, "That's right. It might sound ridiculous in a town that has its share of museums, but I felt it was my place to reinvigorate the memory of our country's past." Leading the officer towards a broken exhibit of slaves fleeing through the Underground Railroad, Alan commented, "It is my firm belief that we do not shy away from our mistakes, like what had happened to African-Americans and Native American people due to the ignorant arrogance of others. But I focus equal energy on the civil rights pioneers like Martin Luther King and Malcolm X."

The officer replied, "Yeah. That area seemed to sustain the most damage. The only thing that seemed relatively unharmed was the World War II area. None of the German paraphernalia was even touched saved for one. Your assistant said that there was a metallic swastika there." Alan tried his best to look surprised, but considering what was missing, he couldn't keep a knowledgeable smile from creeping onto his face. "Is there something wrong?" asked the policeman.

"Oh, not at all son," the old man replied. Turning his face away from the officer, he muttered, "Welcome Back to the game, Kreiger."

* * *

Billy didn't care that he had suffered three broken ribs, a concussion and a broken nose. He was going to see Freddy and that was the end of the matter. C.C. stood in front of his hospital room and said, "You're not going anywhere in your condition, son."

The young man's frustration was plain as the bandages wrapped around his naked torso. "But dad," he began to say but winced in pain before he could finish.

"No," C.C. said, keeping his arms out in front to bar his son's progress. He continued, saying, "Your mom has been especially worried about you, since the last time you were in a hospital."

A chill of reminiscence streaked down Billy's spine as he recalled the day he met Shazam and transformed into Captain Marvel. Almost serendipitously, a cult for a demon named Sabbac had kidnapped him on his doorstep and thereby precluded him from having to explain his absence. "Dad, really, I'm fine. I just need to see how Freddy's doing," he pleaded.

"Look, you're not even supposed to be moving around now. The doctor said you need to rest."

"Dad, please! I have to know if he's okay!"

"Look, Billy, he's…"

"Tell me!"

After a pause that seemed to last forever, C.C. leaned against the door frame and said, "He's suffered trauma to his spine. The stab wound didn't hit any major arteries, but…he's still in pretty bad shape right now. They don't know if he's going to walk again until he wakes up."

Billy shook visibly. He wasn't sure if it was from the pain in his sides or the news that his friend was fighting for his life. Regardless, he doubled over in painful sobs with his father holding him gently. "It's going to be okay, son," C.C. said, leading his child to his hospital bed.

Hours passed and the sunshine shifted in the hospital room. Mary visited once to check on him, as did his dad. But Billy dreaded the visit from Marilyn, his mother. Since the abduction and return, she had been especially cautious of what happened to her baby boy. The only thing that kept her from locking a vice grip around his body were his broken ribs. Billy's therapist Doctor Beautia Sivana stopped in to schedule an appointment as soon as he was medically cleared.

He wanted to hunt down the animals responsible for attacking him and Freddy.

_Look, kid…_

"It's okay. You don't have to say it."

_I'm sorry---_

"There's nothing you could've done, Cap. You were locked inside my stupid, weak, little body."

_Hey…_

"Maybe if I'd seen those bastards coming, if I could've heard or somehow just knew that they were coming, I'd…"

_There were about half a dozen of them and they jumped you and Freddy like cowards. Six cowards against one heroic person are still Six-to-one odds. _

"Six?"

_Yeah, there was this old guy; he had a knife and some weird thing in his hand. While you were dazed, I caught glimpses of them holding Freddy before he got thrown away like a bad movie script._

"The old man is of no concern," said a recognizably haggard voice. Billy shook from his inner dialogue with Captain Marvel to see the wizard Shazam standing before him.

Sitting up in his bed, the young man replied, "He might've had something to do with my friend's stabbing and what happened to me! I'd say he's of a pretty damn big concern!"

"That which you should pay attention to is the item he possesses. It's a magical talisman of great and terrible power. It is an avatar for the Seven Deadly Enemies of Man."

"An avatar?" Billy repeated, incredulous to the word, "What do you mean?"

Shazam walked to the other side of the young man's hospital bed and looked out the window. "From the beginning of time, since Eden's Exile, mortals have been plagued by seven deadly enemies from which spread all of mortal-kind's foils, evils, and transgressions; Envy, Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, Pride, Greed, and Hatred."

Turning back to Billy, he continued saying, "The talisman the old man, named Albrecht Kreiger, has is the avatar of Hatred. It can take the anger, wrath of any mortal being and amplify it to feed itself. Then it channels the energy back into its possessor, which feeds the talisman."

With his eyes wide in acknowledgement, Billy said, "It's like a bulimic person eating the food they just threw up only to throw it back up again."

"Well, I wouldn't have put it THAT way. Now I'll be skipping lunch," the Wizard commented.

"Where do I find the talisman?" Billy said stoically.

He looked away from the young man, not wanting to look him in the eyes as he replied, "I don't know."

"Bullshit!" Billy spat out, causing Shazam's face to whip directly at him. Pausing for a second, Billy continued, "This thing's magic, that's your department. You mean to tell me you can't find it?"

"You don't know what you're asking of me, boy," the wizard grimly stated, "Suppose I do find it and tell you where it is. What then? Rush in there, your friend's death still fresh in your mind? Krieger would use your own hatred and anger to annihilate you, even as Captain Marvel."

Billy crawled out of his bed and steadied himself against the wall. "In the state I'm in right now, I don't give a rat's ass about that. I want Krieger! So, get out of my way, Shazam!" Lightning erupted from the young man's body, enveloping him, hospital gown and all. When it faded, all that was left was a very angry Captain Marvel.

"Captain," Shazam pleaded, "Please! Use the Wisdom of Solomon and see the truth in what I'm saying!"

"I hear him, wizard," Captain Marvel replied, "But Billy's right. He has to pay for what he's done. Tell us where it is." A knock

Just outside the door, Alan Armstrong peered from the inside, pushing the door open. Shazam looked over to the door and said, "You can come in now, Mr. Armstrong."

Upon entering, the elderly gentleman stood in the doorway stunned. "How did you know I was here? I was told Billy Batson was a teenager." he asked.

"My name is Shazam. My friend here is looking for…"

"Krieger. Albrieght Krieger."

"What do you know about him?" Captain Marvel said, walking toward the old man.

Unafraid, Alan stepped forward and said, "Enough to know that what you're planning is about as stupid as a screen door on a submarine."

"Let me rephrase the question," the hero said, picking up Alan by the collar of his jacket, "How do you know Krieger?"

As his feet dangled almost two feet from the floor, Alan didn't even bat an eye. Captain Marvel paused for a second, thinking it strange that it wasn't making him upset, or even anxious. Looking into the old man's eyes, one would think this wasn't the first time someone lifted him off of his feet with no effort. "You wanna set me down, son?" Alan remarked casually, "An old body like mine doesn't take the punishment it used to.. Captain Marvel complied and took a step back.

"So you're more resilient than you look," Shazam said with an arched brow.

"What can I say? I've kept in shape," the old man said, taking a seat next to the hospital bed. "Albrecht Kreiger was a German spy back in 1935. It was in the ruins of an ancient Mayan temple that he found what was once called 'The Heart of Wrath.' Legend has it, that the item, falling from the sky in a great meteor shower, caused anyone who touched it to become overcome with great rage and hatred.

"Krieger had been a follower of Hitler since his rise to power in Germany. During this time, America had sent in an intelligence agent behind enemy lines in order to get close to Krieger and to snatch the artifact. It was believed at the time to be a radioactive material that might become harnessed into what would be called The Manhattan Project.

The wizard tilted his head and said, "You meant to harness it into that which decimated two cities as well as millions of lives?"

Standing up and narrowing his eyes at the two younger looking men, Alan commented, "It was war back then. I don't expect you young folks to understand."

Shazam's face turned grim, almost as though he were insulted. He replied, "You'd be surprised at what I understand, Mr. Armstrong. Please continue."

"After years of sticking close to him, enduring the vile hatred spewing from those monstrous excuses for human beings, I finally found the artifact in Krieger's home study. I noticed that it didn't give off any kind of radiation. Not one blip on a Geiger counter. I was about to report to my superiors when a young Nazi soldier caught me sneaking around. Before he could warn anyone, I grabbed my knife and sliced his throat. Normally, my training would be to simply knock him out, but…I found myself stabbing him repeatedly. It was only when I caught my reflection in a mirror.

"That's when I realized it wasn't radiation that killed the Mayans in that temple. It was their hatred caused by this…abomination. Krieger found me and we struggled. It was like wrestling a rampaging bull on steroids. I got thrown around like I was nothing. But I managed to escape with my life…and the artifact."

"How did you keep from losing your mind with hate?" Shazam said.

"I remembered hope. I remembered America. Land of the free, home of the brave. I remembered that in Krieger's hands…this thing could be more powerful than anything we could create. Since the end of the World War II…I've been its keeper."

"Well, you dropped the ball," Captain Marvel commented. He opened the window to the hospital and stepped onto the ledge. "Because Krieger's back and my friend Freddy's fighting for his life because you didn't finish the job."

"Yeah, you're right," Alan shouted, pointing his finger at the superhero, "I should've put a bullet in his head in 1942 because I somehow knew down the line, that he'd hire a group of thugs who hide out at the old Bannister's Warehouse and stab your friend. My bad, dude."

"Thanks for the info, old-timer. I'm going to go clean up your mess," The hero leapt into the skies and took off in a sonic boom.

"Why did you do that?!" Shazam screamed to Alan, who was heading for the door.

Opening the door, the former agent said, "Because sometimes the only way to learn is the hard way."

"You've sent him to his death!" the wizard said, motioning to the open window.

"Then I guess I don't have any time to waste, then, do I?" he said, leaving abruptly. Shazam stood in the room, alone. Sighing in frustration, he wondered how the day could get any worse.

"Hello, Mr. Wizard," said Mary Batson as she stood in the doorway. "Don't worry; I'm not going to blab to anyone about my brother the superhero. But you and I are going to have words." Shazam let out a heavy breath and braced himself for a sister's wrath. "Starting with, where the hell IS my brother?"

He donned a green tunic, with a swastika crest across the chest area.

* * *

Albrecht remembered Armstrong well. He never forgot the times they spent together as men of the SS. At least…when he thought Alan was SS. He had to know he would come for his precious talisman. So why would he put it out in the open? Why leave it where he knew Krieger would get to it and reunite with his beloved?

Albrecht pondered the thought with every step he took toward the platform. He would address the young men who have aided him in his quest thus far. With the symbol of his former beloved party emblazoned behind him, Albrecht knew he would feed very well tonight. "Honored men of the Fifth Reich," he said, "I stand before you, invigorated by your righteous anger." That was what made him love the talisman all the more. Their hatred gave him strength, youth, vitality. He felt like he could take on an entire nation by himself.

He continued saying, "Now, we are but a dozen or so 'voices in the wilderness.' But soon, we shall become a mighty nation with a shout greater than God's! We shall show them that our hatred is just! It is pure! And it is…"

A small part of the ceiling came down onto the dozen or so men in front of the stage. As they scattered, Captain Marvel landed heavily on the ground, causing the room itself to tremble. Albrecht looked impressed as he smiled. Folding his hands behind his back, he walked off the podium and toward the red and gold intruder.

Two men charged at him, and were disposed of quickly by a mighty swing of the hero's arm. "Krieger!" he shouted, shoving three more away with one-handed ease.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" the villain smirked.

"You put a friend of mine in the hospital," Captain Marvel replied, "I'd like you to meet him."

"Oh? Which one? The filthy scum whom my men pummeled? Or the young boy whose stomach was a temporary home for my knife…and whose blood allowed my beloved to live again?"

His face scrunched into a pink portrait of righteous fury as he reared back his fist. With a scream, Captain Marvel drove a punch directly into Krieger's face. He expected either for him to fly through the swastika on the stage, or for his head to come clean off. Neither circumstance had occurred. Instead, Krieger's face barely budged an inch. Surprised but determined, Captain Marvel drove haymaker after haymaker into the laughing Nazi's face and stomach. But nothing he did could even faze his opponent. The man who nearly killed Freddy stood laughing and his punches couldn't even affect him.

Krieger caught one last punch from Captain Marvel and said, "My turn." He punched the hero's face, sending him flying through tables and into a van, sending it flipping sideways. As the vehicle crashed into the wall, it burst into flames. The metal wreckage moved quickly away, propelled by Captain Marvel's hands. He hurled the remains at Krieger who simply stood firm. He swatted away the flaming wreck away with a backhand and sent it crashing into another wall.

Brushing the debris from his costume, Captain Marvel felt a trickle of liquid down his lip. Wiping it off, he peered at his hand. The hero began to shake, his heart filled with fright. It was blood; _his_ blood. He couldn't let that stop him. Freddy was depending on him to bring this guy down. Taking to the air, Captain Marvel swooped in and went to deliver a powerhouse attack.

The assault was cut short when Krieger simply reached out and clutched Captain Marvel by the throat. His momentum stopped almost immediately, causing a throttled yelp to escape his lips. The villain no longer appeared amused as he said, "You come into my home and threaten me…and my brethren with violence. And for what reason do you come? You want to avenge a pair of filthy, unwashed, miscreants!?" He drove the hero's head into his knee and then slapped him across the face.

"They're my…" the Captain's sentence was interrupted with the Nazi's fist slamming into his mouth, tearing his lip. He spun to deliver a backhand, but Krieger ducked, driving an uppercut into the hero's stomach, lifting him off his feet slightly. The villain drove his right elbow back into Captain Marvel's nose, followed by a palm strike to his face. He then swung a spinning kick into the red and gold champion's stomach, sending him flying backwards onto his back. Though the pain was evident, Captain Marvel relied heavily on Achilles' courage and the stamina of Atlas to return to his feet. He charged once more to attack his foe.

"THEY DO NOT DESERVE REVENGE!" shouted Krieger, blocking a right cross and following with a knee to the stomach. A kick to the face sent Captain Marvel flipping backwards onto his face. "They deserved every punch," he said with a punch to Captain Marvel's face, "Every kick," he continued, driving his foot into the hero's chest. He finished his sentence by saying, "Everything we did to them they had coming. Just by being born."

"You monstrous…evil son of a…" Shazam's champion was interrupted once again by Krieger's fist. The evil Nazi then head butted Captain Marvel repeatedly, holding him up by the arms. The hero's blood gushed down his face from his mouth and nose while Krieger laughed at how easily he is beating his prey. He then threw the nearly unconscious body of Captain Marvel toward the stage. His red and gold-clad body slammed into the swastika symbol. He slid down the wall, crashing into a heap upon a table.

Albrecht said, walking casually toward the beaten hero, "I've seen you around in the news. They say you protect the people. That you are their guardian, their champion, and their best hope against the forces of what other people might call evil." He wrapped his arms around Captain Marvel's neck and prepared to snap it in half. "Hope is dead, _mein freund_. As dead as you will be."

Suddenly, a window crashed, alerting the thugs still conscious as well as Krieger. More glass shattered as canisters entered the warehouse. They sprayed nitrous oxide into the air, filling the room. One by one, the men began to laugh hysterically. Soon, Krieger himself began to laugh boisterously. But at the same time, he began to grow weaker.

A van suddenly crashed into the closed loading bay doors, spraying more gas into the room from its sides. Making a bee-line for Krieger, Alan Armstrong swung the van around, sending the back end into his old nemesis. The villain flew through the air, dazed at the attack. Captain Marvel began to stir slightly. The back door opened up and a gas-masked Alan grabbed him and tried to get him into the van. "C'mon, kid! Move your big red ass!"

From the corner of his goggles, Alan saw Krieger approaching. "Dammit all," he said, pulling out a shotgun from the van.

"You id—haha—idiot," the Nazi said defiantly, "That's not going to—hahahaha--- kill me!"

Firing a round aimed directly into Krieger's groin, the villain recoiled and doubled over in pain. "Never said it would, you dumb sumbitch," Alan replied, guiding Captain Marvel into the van. Rushing to the front seat, he saw one guy grabbing onto the driver's side mirror. Rolling down the window, Alan punched the stoned young Nazi wannabe off the vehicle before peeling out of the warehouse.

Alan made for the interstate with the still dazed superhero in the back of the van. "What happened?"

Glancing back toward Captain Marvel, Alan replied, "What happened was that you just got the hell beat out of you, back into you, and then right back out of you again, kid."

Captain Marvel could feel his wounds healing from the beating he took. The blood on his face had dried although his face still hurt. "I don't understand," he said, trying to get to his feet, "I couldn't hurt him. Not even a little bit. But…he could hurt me…"

All of a sudden, Shazam materialized in the passenger seat. Alan, startled by the sudden intrusion, pulled a gun from his ankle and aimed it right for the wizard's head. "Holy---Don't do that! That's a good way to get a lead contact lens!"

"If you say so," he said dismissively. Looking to his champion, he said, "I tried to warn you about the talisman's power. But you went off like the impetuous child that Billy is."

"Look," Alan said, "He's learned his lesson. Krieger's not someone you can just trade punches with. I learned that the hard way, too."

"I got it. Can't beat him the old fashioned way. So how do we do it?"

"To awaken the talisman, blood must be spilled onto it. The only way to destroy the talisman's spell is to surround the one whose blood woke it up with love and hope and peace. These are the enemies of hatred."

"That's great and all," Alan said, "But how are we supposed to get a decades-long bigot like Krieger to feel love and hope and peace?"

"We don't," Captain Marvel said, "Because Krieger's blood didn't wake it up. Freddy's did."

* * *

Freddy laid in bed, not feeling much sensation in his legs. He wanted to force his feet to wiggle but no amount of willpower worked. His legs wouldn't even bend at the knees. Why did this have to happen to him? What gave those animals the right to hurt him and Billy? What about that Captain Marvel guy? Where was he? Why did he let this happen? Freddy's fist tightened to the point where his nails dug into his palms. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

Mary entered the room, seeing tears falling over Freddy's cheeks. "Hey," she said, "You okay?"

"I'm in a hospital bed and I can't move my legs. I'm dandy, how are you?" he replied coldly.

Realizing that it probably wasn't the best question to ask, Mary walked over to her friend and said, "The doctors said that until the swelling in your back goes down, they'll be able to better assess your diagnosis. Don't give up, okay?"

"That's easy for you to say," he commented, wiping his eyes, "Where's Billy?"

Before Mary could lie about her brother's whereabouts, Billy entered the room, sporting his gown and bandages. "There he is," Mary replied, showing him in and sitting him next to his best friend. "I'm sure you guys have a lot to talk about," she said right before exiting.

"Hey, Freddy," Billy said, "How are you…"

Freddy interrupted, "The next person who asks me how I'm doing or if I'm okay is getting their throat punched, man. Alright?"

"Dude, I was just…"

Freddy waved a hand and said, "I know, just..." He paused and examined Billy's face closely. He commented, "Docs said you had a concussion, nose all jacked up and that. You look just fine to me."

Billy noticed the ease he walked and the fact that he felt no more pain. The transformation healed him. In the back of his mind, he wondered if Captain Marvel would be better if he came back out.

_Yeah. Next time I come back out, I'll be back at full strength. Don't worry about me. _

"Bro, trust me, I'm much worse than I look," Billy said, shaking his head to clear out the cobwebs that no longer existed.

"Uh-huh," Freddy replied, "Any word on the assholes that did this to us?"

Billy put his hand on his friend's shoulder and said, "It was group of those mini-Hitler skinheads. Police are tracking them down. You know, Freddy, they're gonna catch'em. If they don't, then Captain Marvel will. I'm sure of it."

With a stare that almost made the room temperature drop twenty degrees Freddy said, "Good. When they do…I hope they get the chance to feel what they did to me. If Captain Marvel catches them…I hope he smashes them all."

"Freddy…" Billy said, "I know you're angry, bro, but…"

"But what?" he spat back, "I'm not supposed to be angry about possibly never walking again? I'm supposed to just forgive and forget what those racist sons of bitches did to me?! Hell with that, Billy! Why are you even asking me to just let this go, man?"

"Because I don't want this bullshit to eat you up, man! I don't want their ignorance to cause you to give in to the very hate they spread to every single person they talk to!"

His tear-streamed face made Billy's heart sink as he said, "Oh, and I guess we ought to sing Kumbaya and just hope those bigots will change? No, man; people like them never change. They'll never stop having hate in their hearts until their hearts stop beating. And if that's what it takes, then I hope every single last rat bastard one of them is found and put out of everyone's misery! And if you don't agree with that, then you might as well get the hell out of here!"

"C'mon, man!" Billy said, pleading to his upset friend.

"GET OUT!" Freddy said, pushing Billy away.

As Billy walked out of Freddy's room, Mary stood outside the door. With her arms folded, she said, "What did you say to him?"

"I told him that he didn't need to hate them. That that's just what they want."

"Easy for you to say," Mary said coldly, turning into the room to see Freddy crying into his hands. All Billy could do was sit and watch his best friend sob with rage and hatred. He walked over to the wall and put his head in his hands. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Billy jerked around to see Alan Armstrong.

"You look like you could use a friend, kid," the old man said with a smile.

"I should've known I couldn't talk Freddy out of hating them. I mean, I hate them enough for what they did."

"And they turned it into a weapon against you. That's what the damned thing does. That's what hatred does. It turns your anger against you and causes you to self-destruct. It causes you to make mistakes, like marrying the girl of your dreams, thinking that she will be able to keep you grounded when the voice in your mind tells you to rip off her head and drink what falls out. It'll tell you to smother your infant daughter in her crib just to stop her crying even though you'd kill yourself before you'd ever hurt her. It'll tell you that you don't need either of them when they run away from you because you lost control for a split second and told them you wish they never existed.

"It'll even tell you to build a museum and advertise it so Krieger could come back and take it, therefore giving you the chance of settling the last debt owed in your life before cashing out."

Upon hearing the man's confession and the price he paid for being the guardian of such a foil artifact, Billy said, "I'm sorry, man. I had no idea."

"The longer I'm away from it," Alan said, "The more ashamed I feel for letting it control me. The more I want to see this through to the end. To finally make amends to my daughter Katarina."

"What about your…"

"She died fifteen years ago. Breast Cancer. I don't know if she ever forgave me. I think that haunts me more than anything."

"I wish Freddy could hear you right now, Mr. Armstrong," Billy said, putting a hand on the old man's shoulder, "He could sure use someone like you to tell him not to let hate rule him."

Standing up and walking with Billy toward the elevator, "That's the thing, kid. Everyone can tell you not to hate until they're blue in the face but the only person who can really stop Freddy from letting it consume him is Freddy."

Shazam appeared in the elevator as the doors opened. Alan reached for his pistol but paused, saying "Buddy, one of these days you're gonna cause someone to have a coronary."

"My apologies, Mr. Armstrong," the wizard replied, "But I'm afraid that with Freddy's blood tied to the talisman, as long as hatred rules his heart, Albrecht Krieger will be unstoppable."

Billy held up his hands and said, "I tried to talk to him about it but…without going into detail, there's nothing I can do."

"Alan's right," the wizard commented, "Freddy's the only one who can dispel the anger in his heart. Therefore, he's the only one who can stop Krieger."

End of Part 1


End file.
